


The Cleaner

by nuttyasafruitcake



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 1980s, Alternate Universe, Assassination, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Immortality, M/M, Masturbation, Ministry of Magic, Multiple Personalities, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, Parseltongue, Sexual Fantasy, Snakes, Vampire Harry, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-02
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-02-07 07:59:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 22,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1891326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nuttyasafruitcake/pseuds/nuttyasafruitcake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry considered himself to be the best in his line of work. He never failed to execute an assignment. That was, until he was given the mission to assassinate the Minister of Magic, Tom Marvolo Riddle.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Worry About Cleanliness

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I'm not J.K.Rowling and do not own Harry Potter. I make no money from this fanfiction.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry earns money from other people's lack of foresight. In this case, Fudge's delusional beliefs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rewritten: 10.10.15

**_Worry About Cleanliness_ **

**_  
1851_ **

Harold pulled his bare legs up to his chest, biting his lips as dry skin was split and bruised by the uneven flooring. Brick crumbles from the wall and sand brought in by cruel beings covered the cell. He imagined he could create a bed out of it soon.

A death bed.

Yes, Harold could no longer imagine any other outcome. Without liquid or solid substance there was little keeping his blood flowing. Harold had studied under his father, and was fully aware of the horrors man had carried out of hunger. Mothers eating their children and likewise. Everything for survival. Maybe he, too, would fall under the madness of hunger and eat his own flesh.

Chuckling hollowly, Harold congratulated himself on his wistful thinking. His cause of death would not be from starvation. After all, he was a mortal man, unlike them, and diseases, anguish and death was inevitable. The games they played with him was ruining him. And just like a deconstructed house, Harold had lost his inner walls. Now, only a shell was standing, ready to fall at the slightest push.

 _‘Never cry, my dear son. As the heir you have an obligation to succeed in areas your father failed.’_ Tears swelled, threatening to fall. Oh, how he had fallen for grace.

His dear, beautiful mother would surely look away in shame if she ever saw him curled up on the floor like a child. Dirty and crying, dismantling his honor as a man.

Despite that, Harold longed for her. Her warm voice, protective embrace and overpowering perfume. Together with her, his flawed but gentle father and his beloved elder brother. Yes, he would even marry his appalling fiancé if he survived this ordeal.

Even so, he was probably dead to them.

Harold curled his freezing toes, imagining the numbness was a cause of heat and not of cold.

He did not wish for death. He longed for life. Even a crippled life was preferable to death. Anything was better than breathing out for the last time, succumbing to his injuries.

Having grown up in a house of purity, Harold had early learned to think himself invincible from everyday sorrows. His mother had made a habit of reminding him of his position in society every night when he was a child, a candle sitting by the bedside, flickering as she chanted the same truth again and again.

 _‘We are better than them, pure and blessed by magic. Never forget, my dear son, never forget.’_ And he had believed her until his world shattered around him at twenty.

Harold licked his chapped lips. Producing offsprings with his fiancé was preferable now that he had lost everything. His mother would be pleased. He would leave the love of his life and marry his cousin.

“Harold, my love♪ “ His captor’s smooth voice boomed through the cell. “Oh dear, what are you doing on the floor?” Harold recoiled in horror, blinking away his tears in a futile attempt to hide them. “My poor, poor boy, are you crying?”

Steps closed in on his position. The heel of his shoe clicked against the flooring. Harold could not help his trembling and in a sudden eruption of courage he pushed himself up and away from the man, not the devil, in front of him. Shackles were clinking together, ragged and fearful breathing, sounds of metal scraping against stone. A nightmare refusing to let him go.

“No, no, no, no - please, no more, just - no, please… I beg you… anything, anything but that!” He cried, raising his hand like a shield, but as soon as he blinked the man vanished. His breath was caught in his throat and he looked desperately for his enslaver.

Gentle fingers threaded through his dirty and greasy hair. Harold froze, unable to defy him any longer.

“Harold, I am so sorry, but -“ Cold arms embraced him from behind, drawing him up close to the man’s chest. “-We have no choice but to do it, you know that.” Harold let his head be pushed back against a freezing shoulder. He had to give him some credit: it almost sounded like he cared.

“Let me go…” He whispered, broken in the arms of the devil.

“My sweet one, you know we cannot do as you wish. No, not after all the trouble my children went through to rescue you from the wicked Potter family.” Chuckling, he strengthen his hold. “Do you really think I will ever let you go?” He whispered in a sickly sweet voice, unnecessary breath blown into Harold’s ear.

The devil scooted back, gently placing Harold down on his side. “You’re beautiful, my beloved,” He laughed, staring into Harold’s forest eyes and beyond.

Smiling widely, Harold’s personal monster exposed elongated fangs.

“You will be here for the rest of your life, darlin’.”

* * *

 

**1988**

Harry Potter walked briskly down the street of Diagon Alley, ignoring the dark-hooded men and light-dressed women roaming the side alleys. Few dared enter the main street, aware of the recent laws that had been passed. An old and dirty man had gathered enough courage to enter the street and was on his knees, slurping up water from a muddy puddle. Harry glanced away in disgust at the man’s attire and unwashed hair.

Inhaling the chilly midnight summer air, he tightened his red cotton scarf, hoping it would keep the cold out. An unnecessary habit he refused to let go. He was dressed in a seemingly new pitch-black suit, appearing like a very serious businessman out to succeed. In his right hand a heavy-looking suitcase, looking just as clean as every other part of the young man.

He made a stunning image. However, his most noticeable feature was his eyes, ominously green, shining against his pale skin. Jet-black hair was pulled back tightly against his head, though it seemed forced because short hair straws were escaping their prison behind the hair gel and were standing out in all directions.

Glancing into a showcase window, his eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. He would have liked to fix his hair, but without the eyes of another being there was no way he could perfect it. No, the lack of reflection was more a curse than anything else, denying him order and cleanliness.

Soon, he was stepping out the lights and order of Diagon Alley and entering the consuming darkness of Knockturn Alley.

He was late, he noticed as he looked down at his wristwatch.

Knockturn Alley was the exact opposite of Diagon alley, but at the same time exactly the same. Built by wizards for wizards, they were both alleys of freedom, acceptance and rejection. Harry adored them both. Knockturn Alley was built up on fascinating shops and restaurants, all of them open at night, catering either creatures of the night or wizards of darkness. It was a place of total lawlessness, no one would be suspicious because everyone was suspicious.

Harry came to a halt in front of a darkened shop, The Coffin House, one of the few places closed. _‘Closed Until Further Notice_ ’, was carved into the stone stairs leading up to the entrance. He frowned upon the dust gathered in the windows.

Stepping up, Harry noticed the door was slightly open and he hesitated slightly before he pushed his elbows into the door, opening it.

There was a small candle left on the counter, trying and failing to light up the room. It flickered slightly as Harry closed the door behind himself.

Coffins, strange objects and shelves of books were standing up against the wall. Dusty and old. His shoes left footprints on the wooden floor and the air was thick with dust. Exhaling, Harry pinched his nose, trying to stifle his panic. It was too grimy here.

The shop was empty, not a single living being inside. His costumer had yet to arrive, perhaps he had lost his nerve. _‘No surprise there_ ,” he thought quietly to himself, walking carefully deeper into the room, trying not to disturb the layers of dust on the floor.

Noticing a lack of chairs, even behind the counter, Harry halted, refusing to search in the cluster of objects any longer. He sighed and was about to place the suitcase on the floor, but he froze before slowly lifting it up again. No, it was not worth it, there was too much dust. He exhaled at the averted danger.

Leaning closer to a bookcase, he picked up the closest book, staring interestingly down at the cover. _‘Skin Walkers_ ’, Harry pursed his lips in wonder as he opened the book. Anything to make time go by.

After 20 minutes of exhausting, illegible theories the client had yet to arrive. He sent a worried glance at the door as he placed the book back at its previous place. Harry’s black gloves was dusty now. Feeling chilled to the bone, he pulled them off carefully before letting them fall to the floor. He fished out a new pair of gloves, pulled them on and sent a silent, wandless, spell at the gloves on the floor. Flaming up, they pulverized, leaving a black spot on the floor.

It was a compulsive habit, an obsession some would say, but there was nothing to do about it. Harry Potter despised the dirty and foul. He blamed his creator.

The door creaked and his client entered. A portly little man, with rumpled grey hair and sweat gathering at his hairline.

 _‘Disgusting,’_ Harry though, but smiled nonetheless. “Mr. Fudge, I was worried. Arriving late does not give a very good impression, now does it? Hmm?” He was not afraid of verbalizing his thoughts. And why should he? There was no point in hiding behind a mask.

Fudge shifted, a chubby finger coming up to loosen his scarf, as he stared transfixed at Harry’s teeth. “Well…”

Harry’s smile widened and he laughed. “I have no interest in obese men, you have nothing to worry about! “ Men had a fear of his species and often found it unpleasant when he openly exhibited his teeth.

Fudge nodded slowly, not trusting Harry’s words. “I had business of my own and could not make it earlier… For that I apologize.” Authority, Fudge obviously wanted to be perceived as a man of importance.

Nodding, Harry stared shrewdly at the man. “Some advise, Mr. Politician - loose some weight, drink beauty potions and sell your soul, then - please - tell me the same thing again.”

Fudge opened his mouth slightly before he closed it again, at loss for words. “Uh - I… Well, listen…” He stuttered.

“Breath,” He answered. “Now! Let us find somewhere to sit, have a cup of coffee, something nice, clean - yeah?”

Fudge shook his head. “I have rented an office here… in this shop.”

“How unnecessary, my dear baconer! Let’s go somewhere cleaner.”

“I am a man of importance, you unsightly little man!! I have an appearances of responsibility I need to keep up. Maybe you are unaware of it - it wouldn’t surprise me if you were - but there is an election coming up and every vote is crucial for my success!!” Fudge snapped, walking briskly past Harry, who stared in surprise at the man’s back. Well, he would not be getting any vote from Harry, that was for sure.

“I understand, I do have a brain, Mr. Toffee. No need to be an arsehole.” He whispered in reply as he followed the man towards an office in the backroom.

Dominance, an iron will and purity was crucial to succeed in their world, even Fudge realized what he needed, but he could only fumble around in the dark trying to turn on a light that did not exist. Not anywhere close to the man at least. Two times had Fudge lost an election for the position as the Minister of Magic. Two times to the same man. And he would fail the next time too, without a doubt.

The office was no cleaner than the rest of the place and Harry wondered if Fudge had more of a brain than anticipated. Layers of dust covered the chairs like blankets. Ghosts gathered for his horror only. There were no windows, only a small mirror in a corner, reflecting Fudge’s heavy movements and listening to the screaming wooden floor, suffering under the man’s weight.

Fudge took a seat behind a large desk located in the middle of the small room and in an unnatural and practiced movement folded his fingers. “Please sit,” He said and Harry sent a distasteful glance at the empty chairs. “Oh, no - I would like to stand,”

Fudge shifted, clearly debating wether to stand up too. Coming to a decision, he leaned back in the chair, looking pleasantly hideous.

“Let’s get down to business, shall we?” Harry murmured, absentmindedly brushing invisible dust-specks from his coat. “You want me to clean something up, right?” Stricking eyes fixed themselves on the sweating man.

Fudge nodded grimly. “Yes, that’s right.”

“And you’re aware of my occupation?” Elaboration was everything in his line of work. A client lacking understanding was a burden Harry had no desire to carry. Either he was in the saddle or he was not. There was no - ‘Well, I don’t know’.

“Yes, I do.” Fudge’s voice was wavering. “I… I know what you’ll do,” Scared of corruption he chose to place the responsibility of Harry. A guilty mind trying to justify its immoral actions. Oh well, Harry had little interest in a client’s mental health.

“Wonderful,” Harry answered. “Alright, there are some general rules - here,” Harry swished his wand and a paper popped up on the table in front of Fudge. “You need to sign that, with blood please, and if you are clever read it carefully,” He murmured and Fudge nodded in response, sweat dripping from his nose down at the paper. ‘How vile.’ “Please know, Mr. Fudge, that while you’ve paid for my services it does not determine the deed. What do you mean by that? You may ask. Well, listen. My services are dependent on the sum you pay for the job. If there's, let’s say, a man who’ll pay more for the death of your enemy than you, then good for you! Free services! I don’t double book a death, you see. Money rules the world. So, if someone - maybe, I don’t know - the man - or woman - you want me to kill contacts me to kill you and pays more, then too bad! You’re the victim! Money rules it all, my dear! Easy!” Fudge swallowed nervously, but Harry paid it no attention.

“There’s a second rule, but that’s in relation to my services and nothing to do with you. When you pay, and a long as you’re the main client, then I keep the money in an untouched bank account until I’ve succeeded. If I fail, unlikely to happen, but you never know, then you’ll get all your money back. A wonderful system isn’t it?! Inspired by Muggles there, can you believe it? No? Oh well, I believe that was it. Is there anything - oh, wait, I forgot. If you look at the bottom of that paper, you’ll see a third paragraph. That one is pretty much protecting your identity, I won’t share it as long as you’re paying the most! Alright! That’s it, please read it meticulously before signing.” Smiling, Harry ticket of the last thing on his list. Everything was said and done. Wonderful.

Fudge read it twice before signing it. 

“Who is it?” Harry asked excitedly as he picked up the paper, folding it and pushing it into his pocket. He was curious, but already suspicious of who it would be.

“Well, you see… oh…” He stuttered and Harry could understand the difficulty in saying it out loud so he wanted patiently.

“His name is… It’s the Minister of Magic…. T-Tom Riddle,” Fudge whispered. “He’s a-“

“I know who he is,” Harry murmured, saving Fudge from embarrassing himself. “You do know that he’ll pose as a greater risk than normal targets, so that’ll up the price.” No service was cheap, but this was something else entirely.

“I have money - I’ll give you anything, just… make him disappear.” Fudge answered hurriedly.

“Careful, Mr. Fudge, never say ‘anything’,” Harry whispered in reply. “But anyway! If you have the money then there’s no problem!”

“Do you have any personal information on him?” A professional question serving no other purpose than keeping a professional front. Harry had no interest in his client’s opinion of the target. He had a routine where he stalked the dirt for some months before cleaning it up. Half the excitement came from gathering information.

“Yes, I do,” Fudge shifted in his chair and brought a small crumpled letter out from his pocket. “Everything…. Is in here,” His voice was soft. He glanced at him for a moment before, once again, folding his hands, quieting. Looking back at Harry he opened his mouth, but closed it seconds later with a snap.

“What?” Harry asked.

“When,” Coughing, Fudge continued. “When will you do it?” The general question; when? Human beings had not patience, none at all. Could they not understand that things took time. Harry was a painter and he needed time to consider each stroke he applied on the canvas.

“Minimum one month,” He murmured, considering it. “Maximum 1 years, it depends, but don’t worry, he should be dead before the election.”

A satisfied smirk pulled at Fudge’s lips, threatening to break out into a smile. The death of the beloved Minister would not only bring sorrow and despair, but pure contentment and happiness. Death was a two-sided occurrence.

“Very well, I shall leave you now,” Fudge stood, nodding to Harry. “Have a good day.”

“Good night, you mean?” He answered, but Fudge ignored it, hurriedly walking out of the office towards the door.

The door slammed close leaving Harry alone in the suffocating place. Fudge had left a pungent smell of sweat and perfume inside the office, occupying space even when he had left in the worst way possible. Harry walked up to the entrance door, avoiding coffins and decaying spider carcasses. Bringing out a handkerchief, he eased it around the doorknob before twisting it, stepping out into the fresh air.

 

**To be continued**


	2. Worry About the Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I'm not J. K. Rowling and do not own Harry Potter. I make no money from this fanfiction.
> 
> «Italic - Parslethongue«

 

 

 

 

 

 

**The Cleaner**

_**Worry About the Past** _

Harry struggled with his door, wringing the key back and forth in the lock unable to make it budge. His new apartment was a bundle of concentrated grudges, all intending to make his stay difficult. Currently, it was the key, or the lock, who refused to cooperate.

Swearing, he struck the door with his foot, twisting a toe in the process. Another stream of curses enjoyed freedom as Harry put all his weight into his body and pushed his shoulder into the door. It screamed and cracked from the pressure, before it swung open, unfortunately still hanging from its hinges.

Harry trudged inside, closing the door by a forceful kick as he felt a deadly tiredness creep in.

Even though the apartment itself was both old and small, it was cleaned to perfection. Harry had renovated it as well as he could without professional help and now it actually looked inviting.

The furniture had a classical mid-19th century style and the walls were painted in a cold grey, sterilizing in its hue. All in all, it was a hotel room where no one lived, but yet kept disturbingly clean.

Sighing, Harry dragged himself to his bed, falling ungracefully down on pitch-black layers. Eyelids fluttered in appreciation of the softness and forgiving embrace of the bed.

_"Harold."_ Glancing through half-open eyes, Harry smiled tiredly. "I'm home, Baldwin" He whispered in reply. Slowly the bed dipped from weight as the Baldwin slithered on. Leaning up on his elbows, he stared lovingly down at his friend. While Baldwin lacked the limbs of a human being, he had the breathtaking texture only a snake had. He was large for his species, an astatic reticulated python, and measured a staggering 17 feet when stretched out on the floor.His markings had a complex geometric pattern incorporating brown, golden yellow and black. The black colour had a series of irregular diamond shapes that were flanked by smaller markings with light centers. Baldwin was a creature of beauty. 

_"I can see that…"_ The huge snake slithered across the double bed, up to Harry and placed his head in his lap. " _Do you have something to eat for me?"_ He asked silently, intense eyes staring into pits of forest green, and Harry chuckled in response. _"No, sorry - I don't. Though you have eaten today, right?_ " Harry replied.

When no reply was give, he clicked his tongue to catch the snake's attention. _"Seriously, you have eaten, right? I didn't open the kitchen window for you just so you could sunbath, you lazy reptile."_  

_"I've eaten…"_ Baldwin hissed irritatingly.

Satisfied Harry shrugged. He did not really care what the snake ate as long as he did not get killed or captured.

Silence spread across the room and Harry stayed still, dragging his hands over the smooth texture of snake skin. Snakeskin; oh so smooth and so incredibly clean  - at least for Harry, who had grown up in a family where his mother absolutely adored snakes. After all she had been a Gaunt, and had loved snakes just as much as Harry did.

_"Your skin is so smooth and clean, you know that Baldwin?"_ He said quietly to the snake, not really expecting an answer.

Shifting in his lap, Baldwin answered _. "Of course, I'm clean, I'm everything humans aren't."_

_"Yes, indeed,"_ Harry said playfully, before adding. _"You're the beauty of nature, my companion."_

Baldwin lifted his head to stare into Harry's eyes, who blinked in response. _"You're beginning with the honorifics again, Harold."_ He said after a moment of silence.

Harry furrowed his eyebrows, before asking. _"What do you mean?"_

_"My companion, my beloved, honey, darling - I'm pretty sure it's not of this age."_ The snake replied.

_"Ah, I'm sure it isn't, but I like to show my love to creatures with words,"_ Harry declared. " _I'm sure you like it just as much as me."_  He added amused.

_"I'm sure, Harold."_ Baldwin remarked as though he couldn't care less.

_"Now that we're talking about names and the like - how about you begin to call me Harry? It's much more modern than Harold."_ He murmured hopefully.

_"No."_

_"No?"_

_"No."_

_"Why?"_

_"You may want to escape from your past, but I won't let you."_ Baldwin hissed strictly in reply.

Harry looked offended. " _I'm not trying to escape from my past, I named you after my father, remember?"_ He uttered stubbornly, crossing his arms in protectively.

_"I remember, but I think you named me after your father for another reason than just to honour him."_ The snake answered quietly.

_"Sometimes it would have been nice if you weren't so smart, Baldwin."_ Harry remarked irritatingly.

Baldwin gave a blank look. " _I'm older than you, of course, I'm smarter."_ He stated proudly.

Losing interest in their earlier discussion, Harry asked the same question he always asked when Baldwin brought uncomfortable issues.  _"How come your able to get so old?"_

_"How should I know?"_ The snake snapped, not all that interested in his age.

_"Are you sure you aren't a wizard stuck in animagus form? That would explain your huge intellect."_  Harry said laughingly as he caressed the snake.

_"Who knows…"_

_"Yeah - who knows…"_ Harry repeated and moved across the bed to take a good hold around the snake's head. Slowly and with some difficulty he pulled the huge snake across his legs, gathering Baldwin in a pile just beside his legs - so they were not crushed.

_"I really love your skin…"_ Harry whispered as he once again went back to pat the snake. He always had a tendency to begin random conversations when he got bored or annoyed.

_"You've said so,"_ Baldwin said, ever the pleasant gentleman.

Harry shook his head. _"But really, it's so incredibly nice."_ He stared down at the beautiful skin. Eyes widening he glanced at Baldwin's head. _"Hey! Wouldn't it be awesome if humans had the same skin as you?"_ He said excitingly.

The snake managed to gather an offended look. " _It would be a nightmare having to share my kin's beautiful skin with those dirty creatures."_

Harry nodded in agreement. " _Yeah - their really dirty, right? That's why I thought it would be really nice if they had snake skin - no hair, no sweat - it would be heaven."_ He sighed dreamily.

_"I'm sure…"_ Baldwin answered apathetically. 

_"I would actually consider sleeping with humans if they weren't so disgusting! It would be so nice! Do you know how long it's been since I slept with someone, Baldwin?"_  Harry asked in his excitement.

Baldwin tried half-heartedly to move away from Harry's hold, but Harry tightened his grip. " _No, I don't want to know."_ The snake muttered.

_"Are you sure?"_ Harry said slyly, before continuing. " _Well, I'm going to tell you anyway - it's been over 60 years since I've touched anybody with sex in mind. Not that other people have not touched me, but it's never escalated to sex… ah, I'm really sexually frustrated - you know that?"_

_"I know, I'm not deaf and you're not exactly silent when you pleasure yourself you know."_

_"Hey - it's not my fault you listen."_

_"Yes, of course, it isn't your fault."_

Harry stared critically down at the snake. " _I'm beginning to wonder if the only reason you always agree with me is because you don't want to begin discussing anything with me - you're lazy, you know that?"_

Laying his head down at Harry's leg in defeat, he replied. " _Of course, I'm lazy, I'm older than you - I'm a very old man, Mr. Harold."_

Harry looked irritatingly down at Baldwin. _"Stop with the Mr. It makes me feel old."_

Flicking his tongue, Baldwin closed his eyes in resignation. " _You're old, over 155, if I remember correctly."_

Shaking his head, he smiled widely, as though he had just won a prize for knowing more than the snake. " _Close, but not right - I'm 158 to be exact. You're not very good with numbers."_ Harry said haughtily.

_"I'm better than you, but I see no need to count my years or even yours when we know there'll be no end."_

Harry looked offended, staring angrily down at Baldwin in his lap. _"We can both die."_

_"…"_

Getting angry from the lack of response he snapped out. " _Really, it's not difficult to kill me…"_

_"Keep on telling yourself that lie."_  Was the calm response.

Anger building up, he gritted his teeth _. "It's not a lie!"_

_"It is and we both know it."_ Meeting Baldwin's eye he swallowed thickly, hating the direction their conversation had taken.

_"I can die anytime I want."_ He muttered without any real conviction.

_"You can't."_

_"I can…"_

_"You can't, you've tried countless times, but you're still here."_

Staring into his palms he whispered. _"Why doesn't it work…"_

Baldwin flickered his tongue, relaxing now that the man had quieted down somewhat. "I _wasn't with you the first 30 year of your life, how could I know."_

Harry closed his eyes and muttered in resignation. " _Maybe I angered God by becoming this bloodthirsty animal… this is my punishment."_ Sighing he shook his head, it would not help to think about it.

_"Ah, cease your whining, you'll get nothing out of thinking about the 'why' and 'how.'"_ Baldwin replied quietly. 

Harry glared half-heartedly before nodding and answering a bit playfully. " _You always destroy my depressive thoughts, you known that?"_ It was good that the snake didn't follow him on his emotional trips. 

_"You should be thanking me."_

_"When I have a foot in my grave."_

_"Your too stubborn for your own good."_

_"Your too smart for your own good."_

Baldwin stared unimpressed up at Harry, who grinned in response. " _I'm tired - I'm going to sunbathe…don't disturb me."_ Baldwin retorted as he slithered away.

_"Maybe I will,"_ Harry said arrogantly leaning over the side of the bed, staring after the snake that was making its way to the kitchen.

_"Your acting like a child."_ Was the faint response.

_"I'm a child compared to you!"_ Harry yelled, hoping he could be heard.

Keeping silent, he tried to listen for an answer. _"Don't wake me up."_ Could be faintly heard from the kitchen.

Shaking his head he muttered. " _Stupid snake."_

* * *

_He was back in the lousy cold cell again. The stone floor was bitingly cold, and his body was a huddle of pain. Once again he was dying, leaving the painful world behind._

_Harry breathed slowly out and tears began to fall from his pale cheeks. "I don't want to die." He whispered._

_Slowly the world changed, and he found himself sitting defeated in a soft chair, hands bound with dirty chains, contrasting with the beautiful interior of the large hall. He could hear steps behind him, and he twitched in terror._

_"It's time I give you the last of my love, darling." As always his captor's voice was smooth and comfortable, just like his appearance. Vampires always seemed to hold such beauty._

_Harold shook his head, fearful for whatever the man wanted to give him. He only gave pain, never pleasure. Noir always said he loved Harold with all his heart, but love in the man's world meant pain and torment._

_Noir came up to Harold, and stood in front of him. Kneeling down in front of the bound mortal, he smiled warmly. "I love you, I hope you know that." His stroked Harold's trembling cheeks lovingly, confusing the boy with his kind gestures. Harold stared at the man, waiting for the pain he was sure to come._

_Noir smiled sadly as he pulled his hands through Harold's dirty hair. "I am going to give you my everything, my love, my life, my blood - you will never be able to get away from me." His hands tightened in Harold's hair and a wicked smile spread across his face. "This may sting, but know that I love you, precious." Snapping Harold's head painfully to the side, he stared into hysteric eyes. "This is not going to be the usual feeding." Nothing more was said as he drove his fangs into the mortal's neck._

Harry shot up from his bed, breathing raggedly and whimpering as tears streamed down.

_"Harold, what is it?"_  Harry glanced tearfully at Baldwin, who was gathered up in a bundle by his side. Harry gathered him close to his chest, mumbling. _"It's nothing big, just a dream from that night. Go back to sleep."_

**To be continued!**


	3. Worry About Individuals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I'm not J. K. Rowling and do not own Harry Potter. I make no money from this fanfiction.
> 
> Warning: Slash. LV/HP. Vampire/Harry.
> 
> "Italic - Parslethongue"

 

**The Cleaner**

**_Worry About Individuals_ **

"It was we, the people; not we, the Pureblood or Muggleborn citizens….(1)" Harry glanced away, trying to ignore the man's speech. It was an emotional speech with beautiful words, intelligent metaphors and irony - it was great, Harry had to agree, but it was meant for wizards, not him. Maybe it would have been clever to listen and get an idea of what the man stood for, but he had already done that by reading the man's academic and political articles. Harry had other things on his mind. None of which was of any importance.

He looked critically through the crowd trying to locate the best prey to interrogate. Harry abhorred crowds, but there was nothing he could do - he had a job to do.

Gazing around him, he noticed a tearful woman at his side. "Excuse me, plump lady." He said politely; he had no filter at all. The woman glared at him and snapped out, "what did you call me, asshole?"

"Woah - no need to be rude." Harry defended as he raised his hands, trying to calm her down. Maybe he should begin to think about what he said before he opened his mouth, but it was always easier to get into a conversation if he was honest. However, offensive words would be erased from his conversations in the near future.

"No need to be rude? You called me plump. I'm far from fat, pip-squeak" She snapped sharply.

"Well…. Wait, what, pip-squeak? I'm not that short." He answered, before correcting himself. "I apologise; I have a bad habit of saying the first thing that comes into my mind. Don't mind it. I just want to ask you some questions… If that's all right?" Harry said. He wanted to give her a bright smile, but he thought it probably wouldn't be the best thing to do. Not with his characteristics; sharp teeth usually revealed him as a creature of the night.

She looked confused for a moment before answering. "Alright then…" Though she pursed her lips critically, looking upon him like he was a crazy person.

"Thank you. So, I'm new here, just got into the wizarding world - I have lived with Muggles so far, you see. And I wondered - who's that man…?" He murmured, pointing at the speaker. It was an enormous lie, which easily could be looked through. Few would believe he entered their world now, when he looked like he was 21. If he remembered correctly they usually entered when they were 11.

"Oh - I see, that explains your language." She whispered to herself, before looking down at him again. "The gentleman up there is our minister, isn't he gorgeous?"

Harry nodded because he had to agree. The man was incredible handsome to be a 62 year old man,b ut he was a human, sweaty and dirty - Harry would only admire him from a distance, he had no wish to get closer than necessary.

"Really, What is his name?"

"Tom Marvolo Riddle, but he also goes by Lord Slytherin."

"Lord Slytherin?"

"Yes, he's the sole heir to the line of Salazar Slytherin."

"Sole heir, impressive." Harry already knew he was the heir to the line of Slytherin; it had been a fact that had given him conflicted feelings about his job. It did not feel like the most agreeable job, now that he knew the man was the last of the Slytherin blood. The Gaunt blood ran though his veins and Harry did not look forward to killing the last of his line.

"And you know-" She had begun excitedly before he cut her off. "Well, thank you for your help," He added, before making his way through the foul crowd. Nothing new had been revealed, but he had understood, judging by the crowd and the witch, that he was incredibly popular. His votes mostly originated from Purebloods and Half-bloods. Few Muggleborns were allowed to give a vote.

Harry was satisfied to get a look at his kill, after all, he had to have an idea of how he looked in reality and not only on pictures.

There was only one thing that had confused him to no end since he came to listen to the speech.

The minister smelled like a reptile. Harry would know because, as a vampire, he had better smell than other creatures, not like werewolves, but much better than human beings and he could smelt it; the odor of a reptile.

He knew that the man was the heir to Slytherin, but Harry had never stumbled upon an heir that smelled like his beloved reptile. His mother may have not been an heir, but she had been a pure Gaunt, and she had not smelled anything like the minister.

* * *

 

 _"Baldwin, I have a mission for you,"_ Harry said as he slumped himself down on his kitchen chair.

Staring tiredly up at the man in from of him, the snack hissed. _"A mission? You can't order me around… Begin again, you'd like to ask me….?"_

Harry stared at the snake for a moment before lifting an eyebrow, unimpressed. _"Ask you, aren't you suppose to help me with my job?"_

 _"No, it's your job not mine."_ He responded instantly.

Irritated that he had to ask, he grumbled out. _"Fine. Could you do something for me…?"_ Harry stared at the lazy serpent, hoping it was still awake.

After a moment of silence, a weak response came. _"It depends on what it is."_

 _"I can't find the minister…"_ Harry said glancing away in embarrassment. It was horrible, after one month of stalking the minister he had begun to lose the man. Just like that, out of the blue the man would just disappear. It was humiliating. He was supposed to be a professional killer, and he could not even find his prey.

 _"What?"_ Baldwin replied sharply, staring into Harry's green eyes.

Cheeks heating, he looked away again. _"I can't find the one I'm supposed to kill! He disappears every day after he finishes work! Vanishes! I, a professional killer and a vampire, can't find a mere human!"_

_"You're getting old, Harold."_

Getting angry from the unsupportive answers he slammed his fist against the table, receiving a harsh glare in response. _"I've never have problems with finding and stalking my prey, never."_

_"Are you sure he's a mere human then?"_

_"Of course he is, he's a wizard - nothing more."_ Harry mumbled stubbornly.

Baldwin shook he's head, unimpressed. _"Sometimes you underestimate your opponent, wizards can be extremely strong."_

 _"Not that strong…"_ The vampire protested carefully.

_"Are you sure?"_

Furrowing his nose, he snarled out arrogantly. _"A wizard cannot do anything against a vampire!"_

 _"See you're underestimating their species."_ He hissed at the narrow-minded vampire. _"Just because you couldn't do anything against vampires when you were only a wizard, doesn't mean others can't,"_ Baldwin said as he put his head down, relaxing in the sun. He had decided not to follow Harry into his frustration.

 _"Even if it's true and he's incredibly strong, which allows him to trick a 153 year old vampire - it doesn't mean that he can trick a vampire that has magic."_ Harry was aware that he was a bit arrogant, but he really couldn't understand how the man could disappear.

_"You're invincible you know that? Maybe you somehow managed to keep your magic after being turned, but have you ever even practiced it?"_

Looking away from the reptile, he said waveringly. " _I have, of course, I've practised. What do you take me for, a lazy reptile?"_

_"I've never seen you practise anything, Harold. You're just playing, never seriously training."_

_"Playing with my magic is the same as training it."_ Harry said, nodding his head in agreement.

_"Oh - I'm sure. Tell me, do you know any breathtaking, destructive spell?"_

_"What would I do with spells like that? Kill someone?"_

_"You're a hired killer…"_ Baldwin said unbelievingly.

Huffing in reply, Harry shook his head. _"I don't like to use magic when I kill, it's so boring,"_

_"It's cleaner than using all the horrible instruments you're using, you know."_

_"Blood is not dirty!"_ Harry yelled, hurt that the snake would even suggest that blood was dirty.

_"But you still cannot drink directly from humans even though you say it's not dirty."_

Harry grimaced. _"Even though the blood is clean and warm, the neck I have to bite is sweaty and hairy - I would die from the bacteria's on their skin."_

 _"Still, why not use the disinfecting Muggle spray you always carry with you?"_ Their eyes met, and Harry wondered how the snake knew he always carried a disinfecting spray with him, he had never told him.

 _"It doesn't remove the hair and they're still able to sweat after I've applied it!"_ He defended.

_"You should get help with your obsession about cleanliness - it doesn't even make sense."_

_"What doesn't make sense?"_

_"You hate dirt, dust and anything unclean, but you like to bath in blood - a lot of people would think blood is dirty."_

His eyes widened at the thought, and he whispered disbelievingly. _"How could you say that?"_

_"Well, it's true."_

_"It's not, "_ he said, before shaking his head. _"ah, I don't want to discuss something like this with you. You wouldn't understand."_

 _"I don't understand it,_ " Baldwin agreed.

 _"Yeah, yeah - ah, all the talk about blood has made me hungry."_ Harry replied, standing up from his chair. He walked up the refrigerator, picking out one of the many blood bags inside.

Baldwin stared critically at the bag before adding. _"Go out and find some fresh blood."_

Harry almost dropped the bag in his hand from the suggestion. _"What!? Have you lost your mind? I just told you I don't drink from humans."_

_"Try it."_

_"I've tried it…"_ He said and made a grimace.

 _"When?"_ The snake asked, even though he knew when Harry had drunk from humans. He only wanted to make fun of him.

Harry waved his hand uninterestingly. _"Years ago."_ He answered shortly and brought the blood bag up to his mouth, biting into it. He closed his eyes in pleasure. The act of drinking blood was always highly pleasurable for vampires. It was an arousing thing to do, to drink blood directly from a person. Blood in a bag never had an enormous effect - it was old, and not as vital, which made it somewhat insipid. Harry was used to it though, and found it very pleasurable to drink the old, dying blood.

It would be better to drink directly from a person, but he had no wish to dirty his mouth with human skin.

Baldwin stared uninterestingly at the man. " _And 'years ago' means?_ "

Wiping his mouth, he furrowed his eyebrows in thought. _"About 50 years, I think…,"_ he mumbled. _"Still, why should I drink from a human when I can get blood in clean bags from the hospital, it's hygienic."_ He replied as he threw the empty blood bag away in the trash.

_"I understand why you keep to yourself and doesn't live in a coven."_

_"Being eccentric is normal for vampires."_ He said smiling brightly, sitting back in the chair.

_"I've seen it, I live with one."_

Not replying at once, he stared at the lazy snake at the table. " _Why're we criticising me? You're no better."_

Baldwin flicked his tongue. _"How?"_

Tapping his chin, he muttered. _"Well - you're an incredibly old snake… but you have no friends!"_

_"I'm a snake, I don't need friends - I have you."_

_"I'm your owner."_ Was the snarky answer.

Baldwin raised his head, meeting Harry's stare. _"In your dreams. If we look at how much I take care of you then I'm YOUR owner - you're not mine."_

 _"I hate you." Harry said playfully,_ not meaning a word of it.

"I'm honest, you should love me." The serpent said proudly.

Sighing, Harry shook his head. _"You're probably the reason ordinary people doesn't like me…"_

_"Why is that?"_

_"Your honesty is effecting me - I end up saying the first thing on my mind."_

_"You've done that since I met you, Harold."_

_"Keep believing that."_ He said mysteriously, before remembering the original topic of their conversation. _"So, can you find the minister for me? You're good at finding people."_

 _"Well, since you're asking so nicely, I'll try to look. Though I can't promise I'll find him."_ Baldwin said as he slid off the table. Landing heavily at the floor, he glanced up at Harry. _"And?"_

Harry looked confused. _"And?"_

 _"Thank me."_ Scrunching up his face in irritation, Harry stared stubbornly at the snake. Baldwin bumped his body against Harry's leg, making the man hiss the requested words. _"Thank you."_

 _"Good boy."_ The snake hissed, making his way out of the kitchen towards Harry's bedroom where a window was open

* * *

 

Harry glanced down at his untouched coffee, swearing silently.

He had sent Baldwin away to find the man three days ago, and the snake yet to return.

While Harry knew the snake was alive, he could not help but be worried. Baldwin was his partner and friend; he could not afford to lose him, ever.

He could only do one thing now; something he desperately wished he did not have to do. He had to try to find Baldwin, which meant he had to go to the house of the minister.

Usually, when he was supposed to kill someone, he had a rule. Never to anywhere you don't have information on.

It was a stupid move, but he had to find his snake. He refused to be left alone, again.

**To be continued!**

_1\. Taken a part from Susan B. Anthony's speech in 1872._


	4. Worry About Serpents

**The Cleaner**

_**Worry About Serpents** _

Harry stood silently under an invisibility spell, staring critically up at the house. It had been easy to find the way to Little Hangleton, to the minister's manor. However, now that he was standing there, looking upon the beautiful house, he hesitated.

What if Baldwin wasn't even there? It was possible.

Swallowing harshly he made his way over the grass. He had his suitcase with his weapons with him, just in case it ended with him having to kill the minister early.

He hoped it could wait; he did not have enough information on the man to think he was ready. Though it was incredibly difficult to get anything on the old-man, so maybe he never would be ready. It was incredible that people knew almost nothing about the man; he was the minister!

As Harry got closer to the house, he noticed that there were absolutely no lights inside, so he assumed that no one was home, but he had to be careful nonetheless, for all he knew the man liked the dark.

Harry walked quietly up to the door. He usually had control, but now everything was so far from controllable. He had no idea if the man was home, if he had any maids or how the interior was laid out. Harry hated his situation and wished nothing more than to go home. Nevertheless, his need to rescue Baldwin. Heart guided him, denying his head to supply with logical solutions and actions.

He snorted quietly to himself. What was the worst thing that could happen? That he died?

Deciding that there the worst thing that could happen was him failing his job, he did the worst thing he could possible do. He turned the door handle and entered the house just like a guest would. Upon entering the building, he became aware of the foreboding silence. Swallowing in nervousness, he glanced around worriedly.

Harry knew things could not get any worse than they were, so he whispered slowly into the dark. "Baldwin…"

No reply was heard, only a silent tapping sound from what he presumed was water. A tremor went through his body and Harry turned horridly around, instinct urging him to run. He tried to open the door, but it was completely stuck. Panicking he used all his power to try to force it open, but it didn't even make a sound. He whipped out his wand trying different incarnations to open it with force. Nothing worked; he was stuck in the house of a man he was supposed to kill. He was clever enough to understand that he had underestimated the minister. He had been tricked.

Turning around slowly, he began to walk deeper into the house, in search of a backdoor of some kind. As he walked he tried to call out for Baldwin. "Baldwin…" The man knew Harry was there, so there was no need to hide anymore. It was not as though he could kill Harry, so he really had nothing to worry about.

Harry heard bare feet brush silently over wooden planks and he whipped around, ready to take on whatever met him. A red light struck him, and the world dove into darkness.

* * *

 

Harry awoke sluggishly, blinking in the darkness. He could not see anything at all, and judging by the feeling of cotton in front of his eyes; he was blindfolded and bound to a chair.

He sighed; this had to be the most embarrassed thing that had ever happened to him. He was supposed to kill the man, not walk right into his trap. He was way to impulsive when he became worried about important things. He blamed Baldwin.

Hearing footsteps, Harry licked his lips nervously. Soon the smell of a particular kind of snake filled the room, and Harry knew it was the minister.

After minutes of silence, Harry began to get irritated. Was the man not going to say anything?

"I'm so sorry for intruding, but I though no one was home," Harry said smiling. Better to play dumb.

"Clearly." Was the short reply. Harry furrowed his eyebrows, it seemed like the minister's voice differed slightly. At the speech it had been old, but smooth and kind. Now it was a hoarse, almost chilly voice that greeted him.

"You're the minister, right?" He asked curiously.

Harry sensed the man sit down opposite to him before the man replied. "What makes you so sure of that?"

"You smell," Harry blurted out.

"Excuse me?" Riddle answered. Harry had decided that the man had to be the minister, his smell was unmistakeable.

"You smell like a snake." Harry explained. "Ah- I'm not insulting you! It's actually a good thing to smell like a snake!"

Hearing a sigh and footsteps coming towards his position in the chair, he swallowed. It reminded him too much of his creation.

Hands took a firm grip on his hair, pulling painfully at his hair as the man whispered into his ear. "Why are you here, vampire? I've made a deal with your kin, surely they will be angry that you're going against our deal."

Grunting in pain from having his hair dragged out of his skull, he answered. "What deal? Wait, aren't you the minister? I thought wizards keeps away from vampires!?."

"Which coven are you a part of?" Tom ignored his question.

"Coven? I'm not a part of any coven."

"A stray… so, who has asked you to follow me?" The man demanded and pulled harder on Harry's hair.

Trying and failing to shake his head in denial, he replied. "Eh - what're you talking about? I haven't been following you…" Harry was unsure if it was smart to play stupid with the man, but he tried.

"Who do you take me for?" He hissed in reply and painfully let go of Harry's hair.

"A 62 year old man." He said as he heard the man walk away from him.

"Why have you been following me?"

"Not telling." He said arrogantly - he had promised Fudge not to give his name and as long as the minister did not give him more money than Fudge then he kept his mouth shut.

"You do have a lot of interesting instruments in your suitcase, how about we try them out." The minister said, and Harry began to get worried. While death was not an option, pain was. Harry was not a fan of torture, and judging by the man's voice he had nothing against it.

"Let's not…"

"Oh, but I insist. This gun is very nice indeed; let's try it out, shall we?" He said, and Harry shook his head. It was never comfortable to be shot.

Harry heard the man load the gun, and he began sweating. He was not kidding.

Tom walked closer to him again. "Are you still having difficulties remembering the name of the person who hired you?"

"Can't remember… maybe no one hired me." He mutter.

"I am sure you're hired, I do have my sources after all. I just want a name."

Harry shook his head.

"Very well, your loss." It was the response he got as the man shot him in his right thigh. "Ughuuahhh!" Harry screamed and leaned back, gritting his teeth in pain.

Harry breathed harshly, trying to keep his mind off the horrible pain. He shook his head, refusing to answer the man.

"Stubborn, well then - how about we try this scissor here?" Tom said sweetly. Cold sweating and knowing which scissor the man was talking about he swallowed harshly. There were so many things the man could do with a scissor - many Harry did not want to think about. Was he ready to be tortured, just to keep the chubby man safe? Really, he wasn't.

As Tom took hold of his hand, holding his fingers out he knew he had to do something. He only had to feel the cold metal of the scissor on his middle finger before he yelled out. "Wait!"

The scissor halted, but was not removed. Harry swallowed. "How about we make a deal?"

Tom sighed. "Maybe you have not noticed, but you are in no position to ask for deals, vampire."

Shaking his head he muttered. "It's not really a deal I just want to ask you something…"

The scissor was removed, and his hand freed. "Very well, but I cannot promise I will answer your question."

"All right - have you seen a male python?"

"A python?"

"Yes."

"Maybe - now answer my question." Tom said, and Harry gritted his teeth in frustration. He had to find Baldwin.

"Fudge, Cornelius Fudge." Harry replied, before adding. "Seriously, have you seen it? The snake?"

No answer was given, and Harry began to get nervous again. He had gotten what he asked for, surely he would not torture Harry just for fun?

Once again the sound of a gun being loaded, and Harry knew the man had no intention of letting him walk away alive. He tried to move, get out of the bound chair. As he moved his blindfold fell off, and Harry's eyes widened.

The man had to be the most beautiful creature Harry had seen in his entire life. He had a chalk-white face, snake-like slits for nostrils and long, thin hands. The man was also tall and had incredibly white skin. Harry knew most people would find the man horrifying, but to Harry he looked so much like the animal he loved that it made him a creature of grandeur. And the best part - he had no hair, no hair at all on his pale skin.

Swallowing he stared hypnotised at the man, who held the gun in his long hands. Harry wondered longingly if the man did not sweat since he looked so much like a snake.

Though before he could look any longer, the gun was fired and the bullet went straight into his head, once again introducing him to darkness.

* * *

 

"Should I remove the corpse, my lord?" Was the first thing Harry heard when he came to again. It was always like this when he died, waking up was like awaking from a deep sleep. Sluggish and tired.

He was somewhat aware that he was laying on the floor, no longer bound or blindfolded, which was no surprise since he was supposed to be dead.

Harry didn't know why he never died when people killed him, normal vampires could easily be killed. Apart from not staying dead and be able to use magic, Harry was just like every other vampire he knew. He was an undead, so he drank blood to get his body to function and got sunburnt incredibly easily.

He opened his eyes carefully, not wishing to be noticed. It was always easy to look dead after awaking from a killing. He was in great need of blood, his body felt slow and sluggish as it did when he had not drank in days. Luckily he did not go into a bloodlust at once, it usually took about a week before he lost his mind completely and began to search for blood like some bloodthirsty animal.

"Let it be. It is Nagini's dinner..." Harry forced himself not to shock in horror - it seemed like the man planned to feed him to something. Imagination running wild he wondered what sort of animal it was. A dragon, a bear or maybe even a lion!?

"Of course, my Lord," was the immediate and polite response as the man left the room. Harry wondered why the supposedly 62-year-old minister looked like he did and why he was called 'my lord'.

Harry swallowed, wondering how he could get out of the situation.

"Nagini, I have dinner for you." Harry wanted to hit his head against the floor, of course the animal that was going to eat him was a snake - the man was the heir of Slytherin.

Hearing sound of a huge snake slithering against the floor Harry racked his brain for a way out of the room. As it came closer he knew he to move. He could not die but that did not mean he wanted to get killed again and by snake poison. He rolled around on his stomach and yelled. "Stop!" Silence racked the room. Harry noticed that they were in a huge office, where the beautiful hairless man was sitting shocked behind a desk. He glanced over to the snake that was a disturbingly close to him, looking ready to attack. "Seriously, I don't taste good." He said to the snake.

Harry tried to stand up, but his legs failed him and he fell back to the floor, hitting his chin painfully against the floor. "Fuck…" He mumbled, once again trying and failing to stand.

After one more try, he gave up.

Laying like a dead fish on the floor he glanced up at the man, who had moved from his desk to stand in front of Harry. He muttered something to the snake and it slithered away, out the door. Harry breathed out in relief.

Tom stared curiously at him and Harry returned the stare. "You're not dead. How curious." Was all the man said, and Harry wanted to kiss him. It had been ages since he had seen anyone that remotely aroused him, so he could not help but want the man. Though he knew it was somewhat stupid to have such thoughts when the man had killed him earlier. It was incredible he had not blurted out his thoughts yet.

"Yeah, it's curious, isn't it?" Harry answered cheekily.

"I thought you were a vampire, boy." He said and Harry stared irritatingly at the man. "Don't call me 'boy', I'm much older than you!" He snapped.

"Is that so. If so, you certainly do not act your age."

"I believe it's healthy to keep my youth." Harry replied.

Tom bowed down, forcing Harry's mouth open with his thin fingers. Harry, who was secretly loving his fingers, let him. He dragged them over Harry's elongated fangs before muttering. "You're a vampire, so why did you not die?"

Harry felt the fingers leave his mouth and licked his lips before answering. "I don't know."

"You, 'don't know'?"

"Yeah, pretty much. Oh, and guess what!? I can use magic too!" Harry said excitedly, wanting to give the man more reasons not to forget him.

Riddle's eyes sparkled. "Really… You don't know the reason as to why you have kept your magic either, do you?" He asked after a moment.

"Nope."

Sighing he stood up and walked up to his desk, sitting down in the huge chair behind it. "Very well. Now, explain why you are a parselmouth." He said dangerously, daring Harry to lie.

Not seeing any reason to lie, he blurted it out. "Ah - my mother was a Gaunt."

His eyes widened. "A Gaunt? Who?"

"Cassiopeia Gaunt."

"Cassiopeia… Gaunt. Tell me why I've never heard of her?" He stood up from his chair, staring holes in Harry, who was still lying at the floor.

"I'm sure you haven't. She died in 1876 and she was not from the main branch, she married a Potter, you see. I'm pretty sure the Gaunt line wanted to forget her after that." He added knowingly.

"You are a Potter? I should have guessed." He said in expansion.

"Hey! What does that mean? And if I remember correctly, my brother's son married a woman from the main brach, so technically, I'm a part of it... oh, wait, not really, I can't remember. Wait, why am I telling you this?"

"You talk too much, Potter."

"Harry." He corrected.

"What?" Riddle asked in irritation.

"Call me Harry, I don't like to be called Potter - it makes me feel old." The only answer he got was a sigh.

"So - what should I call you? I've been calling you Riddle in my mind, but I've imagined your disgusting, hairy, human getup. So I wondered if I should call you Riddle when you look like this too?" Harry babbled and the man raised an eyebrow when he talked about his human form.

"Do not call me Riddle." He added after a minute and Harry nodded.

"What should I call you then? My lord? Like the man earlier called you?" Harry asked playfully.

"If you wish." He replied dryly.

"Really, seriously? What should I call you?" Harry pressed, and the man massaged his temples in irritation.

"Voldemort."

"Woah - really? Flight of death?" He asked. As the man gave him a harsh glare he added. "Alright."

Voldemort, as the man wanted to be called, glanced down at some papers on his desk, completely ignoring Harry. Harry sighed before deciding that he did not want to be at the floor any longer. It was uncomfortable, and even though it seemed clean he didn't know when it had been washed. He used his hands to try to pick himself up, though after a few attempts, he sighed in defeat.

"Please be silent," Voldemort muttered irritatingly.

"Well, I'm sorry, but as you can see I actually have a reason for being noisy!" He answered in frustration. Voldemort looked up from his papers, glaring. "You are very lucky I cannot kill you."

"I think I'm very lucky that I can't die… though I can't do much more than a corpse after I've died."

Voldemort nodded, he had clearly understood that Harry could not move. "Good, you know too much."

"What does that mean?" Harry asked.

"It means - you know about the connection between the minister and Voldemort, I cannot let you go." He answered, glancing back to his papers. Harry sighed. He had expected as much, though what would the man do with him? He could not kill him, so did he want to keep Harry like a pet? As his mind circled the themes of pets and animals, he remembered Baldwin.

"Ummm…."

"What?" Voldemort snapped.

"You know the snake I asked about earlier?"

"Before I shot you? Yes, I remember."

"Well, you see I sent him to spy on you. He's the reason I came here in the first place… He's name's Baldwin." Harry asked hopefully, if Voldemort did not know then he had no idea where the snake may be.

"I think one of my servants caught a snake some days ago."

Harry brightened. "A huge snake? A python? I think that's him! Could you bring him here?"

"No."

"Eh - why?" He whined.

"He is your pet, I will not risk anything by letting you meet him." Voldemort replied strictly.

"You're really mean."

"I am a Dark Lord, I believe most people would call me 'mean'." The man muttered, uninterested.

"What? You're a Dark Lord?!" Harry said, shocked.

Voldemort looked down in surprised at Harry. "You did not know?"

"No, Fudge only wanted to remove the minister so he could get the position for the next election." Harry replied.

Sighing, he murmured quietly. "I should have known."

"So, about my snake. I re-" He began, hoping to persuade the stubborn man, but he was cut of by a short. "No."

Harry laid his head down at the cold floor. If he wanted to do anything by himself he had to get some blood. Though judging by the man's idea to keep him here, he would probably not get it anytime soon - if ever. What better way to hold an immortal vampire captured than to keep food from it so it couldn't move a muscle.

He glanced up at the man in defeat. He may as well get used to being close to the man. From what Harry had seen so far of him, he had concluded that the man indeed had a snake-ish feel to his skin, it almost felt like a snake when the man stuffed his fingers in Harry's mouth earlier. No hair, clearly, and hopefully no sweat. The perfect blood-bank.

An ideal man in Harry's eyes. All snake-looking, lovely.

Just to be sure that he had not understood the man wrongly he asked. "Will you ever let me go?"

Voldemort stared back at him, his red eyes surprisingly beautiful. He tapped his pen against the desk, before answering.

"To let an exotic creature such as yourself escape?" He whispered and Harry nodded. He grinned madly before adding. "Never."

**To be continued!**


	5. Worry About Nourishment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I'm not J. K. Rowling and do not own Harry Potter. I make no money from this fanfiction.

**The Cleaner**

_**Worry About Nourishment** _

"Water, sir?" Harry blinked in response.

"Or maybe tea?" He opened his mouth to reply, but no words came out. He blinked several times before once again trying to bring his words out of his throat. Nothing, just the sound of his own breath sweeping in and out of his lungs.

"Wait, sir! Tittup knows what you want - It's coffee, isn't it, sir?" Harry did not give any answer.

"No? Hot water, for your throat then?" Was the next question. Harry bared his teeth at the irritating creature.

It took a few jerky steps away from the bed in which Harry was laying. "Tittup apologises, sir." It moved backwards and forwards in jerky and exaggerated movements. Finally it muttered. "Water?" Harry glared wildly at the small creature.

The only door in the room was left open. I creaked on its hinges in the as Voldemort strolled inside, his black robes flaring behind him.

The first sight greeting him in the windowless room was a House Elf jumping back and forth in front of the bed situated in the middle of the room.

Sighing, he sat elegantly down in a throne-like chair beside the bed, muttering. "Tittup, leave the animal alone."

The House Elf, nodded vigorously. "Of course, master." It glanced worriedly at the individual in the bed before whispering. "Should Tittup bring him something to drink? Water, tea or maybe even coffee?"

Voldemort stared at Harry. "No." He said and after a second thought he added. "Though you may bring up one of the subjects in the dungeon… Do not bring one that have been used in experimentation."

"Tittup will do as you wish, master!" It answered excitedly, delighted to get an order from its master. It popped away, leaving the room.

Voldemort sighed again as he glanced at Harry. "I thought you would last longer." He said.

Harry didn't answer. His eyes were staring intensely at the dark lord, his pupil's small slits. The bedridden man bared his teeth and tried to move, but it only resulted in awkward wiggles.

Voldemort stared unimpressed at the sharp teeth, and his futile tries to move. "I have seen vampires in bloodlust before, but never seen it have consequences such as yours. It is quite extraordinary, it only clarifies that my choice to keep you was indeed the right one." Voldemort said superiorly. Harry snapped his teeth in response.

Harry lost all awareness of what was going on around him, but Voldemort continued to speak anyway. "As you may know, it is usual for a vampire to attack like an animal when in bloodlust. It is a natural state, meant to save the vampire from starvation as I am sure you know." Voldemort muttered to Harry as he picked up a cup of tea from the small table beside his chair. Tittup had filled the entire table up with different beverages; it was not unusual to find tea and coffee cups all over the manor, as a result of the House Elf's love for serving them.

"Your defence mechanism, on the other hand, is more of a burden than a protector it would seem. You cannot die, so your inner vampire has no need to get you into the normal type of bloodlust. You go on until there is no longer any substance in your body, which results in your collapse - it appears that it is only after this phrase that you fall into the known animal state of a vampire - you are quite fascinating." Voldemort concluded, and silence swept across the room.

After twenty minutes, Tittup popped back into the room with a thin man. Voldemort glanced up at the House Elf before clicking his tongue in annoyance. "I believe I asked you not to bring any of the ones that have gone through experimentation."

Tittup looked nervous, glancing up at the dazed man it had brought. "He's clean, master. Tittup only had to drug him so no harm would come to master when Tittup brought him." It muttered.

"Very well, you are excused." He said, and Tittup popped away leaving the thin man alone at the middle of the floor.

Voldemort gave a disgusted glance at the thin man.

Sighing, he muttered. "Imperius." The man was struck by the spell and began to walk sloppily towards the bed.

As he reached the bed, he kneeled beside it revealing his neck. Harry, who had followed the movements in the room, stared unimpressed at the man kneeling at his bedside.

After a few minutes, Harry had yet to do anything even though the man was close enough to touch.

"Eat." Voldemort ordered. Harry scrunched up his nose in a disgust, before glancing away.

Irritated at the lack of acknowledgement, he snapped. "Eat, Harry."

He still made no response.

Voldemort massaged his temples. "The responsibilities following a pet…" He muttered as he stood up. He came up beside the kneeling man and took a strong hold on the back if his neck. Voldemort pushed the thin man's neck up to Harry's mouth. "Now eat." He ordered for the third time.

As the man's neck came up to his face, Harry began to squirm. He turned his face away grimacing and bearing his teeth in defence.

Voldemort stared confused down at the hissing man before he tightened his eyebrows in annoyance. He threw the thin man behind him, ignoring the pained whimper coming from him as he hit the floor. Voldemort gripped Harry's cheeks, forcing his mouth open. Red eyes swirled with anger. "If you do not eat yourself, then I will force you to. You are of no use chained to a bed." He snapped. His attention was fully on Harry's eyes. Voldemort stared into for a moment.

In a flash, Harry shook his head, shaking Voldemort's fingers off his cheeks and shot forward and sunk his fangs into Voldemort's finger.

The man hissed but kept his finger in Harry's mouth, not wanting to have his finger ripped to ribbons. Voldemort sucked air angrily through his nose and leaned further into the bed, looming over Harry. With his free hand, he took a tight grip around Harry's neck and pressed.

Harry, who had been busy gulping as much blood as he could press out of Voldemort's finger, did not notice the uncomfortable pressure on his throat before he no longer could get air into his lung. Teeth slipping out of the finger, he wheezed, trying to breath. Voldemort stared coldly down at Harry as he applied his other hand, doubling the pressure on the man's throat.

Harry's eyes which had been dazed ever since Voldemort had entered the room brightened, and he blinked confusedly before panic overcame him.

Struggling he tried to force Voldemort's thin hands of his neck, but without success. Slowly as the lack of air got to his brain he lost strength, though just before he blacked out Voldemort let go.

Sucking in air, he massaged his painful neck, where angry red marks already were forming. "You…" He said raspy, wincing from the pain. Voldemort who had yet to move from his position on the bed leaned down to Harry's ear. "Never are you to touch me without permission. I may not be able to kill you, but we both know there are more painful things than death." He whispered threateningly, Harry nodded in response.

"Of course…" He nodded, trembling.

Voldemort took a step back from the bed, sitting down in his chair again. Ignoring Harry he chose a cup of coffee from the table.

Harry glared at the relaxed man. "You are a disturbing man." He mumbled.

"Indeed." Voldemort agreed nonchalantly.

"It was really uncalled for, you know that? My throat's going to hurt for days, and I'm pretty sure I'm going to get marks! What do you think you're doing to your pet?" Harry snapped, irritated. He was feeling threatened, which was something he wasn't used to.

"It is an owner's responsibility that the pet behaves accordingly. As your owner, I only gave you some discipline as you misbehaved." Voldemort responded calmly, the earlier anger gone.

"I didn't do anything!"

"Oh yes, you did. We both know it."

"Wait, what? I did something?" Harry mumbled confusedly. He had no memory of doing anything unacceptable, had he not awaken to find Voldemort's hand on his neck? "You choked me out of the blue!"

"You believe I would do such a thing with no apparent reason?"

"Are you kidding me?"

"Well, when I bring it further thought it did release a huge amount of stress. Maybe we should make a tradition of it?" Voldemort said smirking.

Harry glared furiously at him. "No way! I don't fancy waking up because of oxygen lack!"

Voldemort shook his head. "You are not the victim here, Harry."

"What? Of course, I'm the victim! You choked me…"

"Yes, I did, though you may not believe it - I did have a reason." Voldemort muttered as he leaned back in his chair.

Harry stared critically at him. "You're not the type to give excuses, so I'll hear you out."

"You do not have a choice in the matter of hearing me out or not. You are a pet; therefore, you do as your owner, me, says." Voldemort corrected.

Harry made a grimace in response.

"Let us get to the point, shall we?" Voldemort asked, and Harry nodded regretfully. "The reason I am even mentioning your wrong doings is because we need to address it. I refuse to let it become a usual problem every time you go into bloodlust."

"I was in bloodlust? Really?" Harry asked but hurriedly added. "Oh - of course, you killed me and I didn't get blood after it… "

"Yes."

"So… how come I'm conscious?"

"You stole my blood."

"I… 'Stole' it?"

"Yes, taking something from me, be it blood or objects, equals stealing."

Harry's eyes widened, and he licked his lips. "Ummm…" Staring down at the bed sheet he unconsciously straightened it out. "You're hairless right?" He asked quietly, a nervous gleam in his eyes.

Voldemort raised an eyebrow. "I am."

"Completely?"

"Completely?" Voldemort answered, clearly desiring a clearer question.

"You have absolutely no hair anywhere on your body, right?"

Voldemort stared a bit confusedly at Harry before he answer. "I have no hair anywhere on my body." Harry relaxed considerable, before he added. "I just want to know - since you look so much like a snake, do you also lack the ability to sweat?"

"I cannot sweat…" Voldemort replied though it was clear he wished for an explanation for Harry's need to ask such questions.

Harry ignored it. "Oh - well then, thanks for the blood." Harry said a smile spreading across his face, but it faded as he glanced worriedly at Voldemort. "I hope you're finished 'disciplining' me…"

"Oh well, you have received your punishment so - yes, I am done with your disciplining - for today."

"Great!" Harry brightened.

Voldemort gave a nod in agreement before a serious light entered his eyes. "Now, let us get down to the real problem."

Blinking confused, Harry responded. "The real problem?"

"You refused to drink from a Muggle. While I can understand a vampire refusing it normally, a vampire in bloodlust should have no such control… explain yourself."

"I refused to drink from a Muggle…" He muttered quietly to himself.

"Answer." Voldemort commanded.

"Do I have to?" Harry asked, looking away from the man in front of him.

"I never ask, I only order."

Harry said nothing.

Sighing, Voldemort massaged his temple. "I can feel irritation brooding, maybe I should release it by choking you?"

"All right, all right." Harry answered quickly. "You see, the thing is - I despise human skin… you know all the hair, hair gathers up dirt and let us not talk about the sweat…" He shivered in disgust.

Voldemort nodded in understanding. "Ah, so the explanation for your need to know if I have hair or sweat is that you have a phobia against it."

"Well, I wouldn't call it a phobia…" Harry denied.

"Then what should I call it?" Voldemort furrowed his brow.

"Dislike?" Harry tried.

"I am no fool, Harry. You refused to drink from a person in bloodlust; it must be more than just a dislike! Maybe even more than an incredible strong phobia." Voldemort concluded as he sat his coffee cup down.

"Whatever…" Harry muttered.

"Indeed, but as your owner I need to know if you have other phobias or if you are allergic to something." Voldemort said coldly. "I have no wish to harm you unnecessarily."

"Wow - how thoughtful of you." Harry replied sarcastically.

Voldemort smirked. "I am very pleased you believe so."

Harry glared at him. "Leave me alone, I'm tired." He said as he laid down pulling the sheet over his shoulders.

"I was planning on leaving. I, unlike you, have responsibilities." Voldemort responded, standing up.

"I have responsibilities!"

"Really?" Voldemort's eyes flashed red.

Harry stared irritated at him, muttering. "I have a job, you know."

"Not anymore."

"…You're not going to let me go."

Voldemort strolled up to the door, smirking. "I am very glad we both agree."

Harry sighed. "Yeah, yeah."

"Very well, I will come back at a later time." He said as he opened the door, glancing over his shoulder he warned. "Do not bother trying to escape, the door is locked."

"You're locking me up?" Harry asked, angry that the man would dare lock him up. He hated being locked up; it reminded him too much of the years in his cell.

Voldemort said nothing. He locked the door, and Harry heard bolts and knew spells would be cast upon the door. "Hey! I don't want to be here; there's nothing to do here!" He yelled.

Not getting any response, he sat up screaming. "Hey! Let me out of the room, I'm not going to escape. Asshole!" He coughed lightly; he's throat was still painful and sore. He could not believe his stupidity, to yell in his condition. One would have thought he knew better since he had been choked more times than he cared to remember. Noir had always loved to do it, and Harry believe to this day that the man had some kink concerning it.

"Why can't I have a normal life with normal people?" He muttered tiredly.

**To be continued!**


	6. Worry About Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I am not J. K. Rowling, neither do I won Harry Potter. No money is earned from writing this fanfiction.
> 
> A/N: I know I've used a long time to update this time... but here it is!
> 
> This hasn't been beta read - so if you notice some mistakes, please tell me so I can fix them.

 

**The Cleaner**

**Worry About Change**

When Harold Maeve Potter was a child, he thought himself invincible.

In his own mind there was nothing that could force him down, not even death.

His mother had encouraged his beliefs while his father had frowned upon it. His older brother had done neither, not interested in anything concerning his younger brother.

In his mind, he was unbeatable, unbreakable and, above all, eternal. If not in physical matter then metaphysical.

It never was a topic whether he should keep his opinions to himself or not. They were shared with everyone and everything; he was not concerned about their opinion of his arrogant ways. No, he was unbreakable; a few hater was surely the last of his worries.

Harold had always been a beautiful child and he had been told so by countless of people. He was striking in both looks and charisma. His love for his eternalness only added to his exotic personality and looks, drawing in the most feared and arrogant of man. Though Harold never feared them, not even when his guards had to dispose of some when they tried to win him over with unusual ways. Why should he? They had nothing that could hurt him.

When he found a male lover and, as a result, rejected his fiancé, he never doubted his feelings. Not in the accusing and harsh eyes of his father, not in the worried of his mother; yes, not even when his brother threatened never to let him see his nephew again, who had been his friend since he was a child.

He loved his flawed lover; with all his spots and faults.

Though it all came crashing down when he was captured by a group of eternal men. Out of the blue, the feeling off being endless became a nightmare. It was a curse, and he fled his arrogant skin as soon as he could feel the mirror breaking.

He could see the real world as it was.

He was just as blemished as everyone else. Beatable, breakable and, above all, transient.

* * *

 

The enclosed room had received a yellow tinge from the fire burning in the chimney. The bed in the middle of the room was empty. Though when looking around the room, two smooth chairs could be seen standing by the chimney. The man known as the Dark Lord and his obnoxious pet, a vampire, filled the void places in both chairs. Though the later sat irritatingly squirming, moving back and forth in the large chair. Two glasses of liquor were seen on a small table beside them, one full; the other empty.

"Cassiopeia Potter..." Voldemort murmured to himself, not meaning to let anyone else hear his outspoken thoughts. Harry ceased his movement, though his fingers kept drumming against the side of the chair. Active; too much energy. Glancing up at the man in front of him, he managed to whisper an answer. "Hm?"

"Your mother's name." Voldemort answered, leaning relaxedly back in his chair. Harry moved around in his chair, so he was lying with his feet over the armrests. Leaning his head back; he stared at Voldemort. "Yeah, what about her?"

"I'm about to find you on the Potter family tree." Voldemort said coldly as he flipped through another set of pages in the book he was reading.

"..." Flipping out of his chair, stumbling a bit as his feet hit the floor, he strolled waveringly up to Voldemort. Harry kneeled beside the reading man and muttered. "Do you have to; Why not ask me instead of trying to find it in a book?" He reached up to Voldemort, brushing his hand over the taller man's fingers.

Voldemort glanced down at Harry, who was staring interestingly at his hands. "You have something against it?" He asked as he shook off Harry's searching fingers. "I do want to know your real name; since Harry is clearly not your real one. And since you are a pet I believe it is inappropriate to ask."

Harry blinked stupidly at him before bursting out in laughter. "Pfft, why'd you believe that? Of course, Harry's my name..." He quieted down, licking his lips nervously. "And how important is it? I'm your pet, name is of no significance."

Voldemort stared at him. "An intriguing notion."

"An intriguing what?" Harry asked curiously, once again reaching up to Voldemort's hand.

Shaking it lazily off for the second time, he sighed. "It amazes me just how simple and foolish you act, especially since you are older than me."

"Everybody can't be as arrogant and possessive as you, you snake... oh dear, almost used it as a negative word... " Harry stared up at him with widened eyes, as though the world was about to come crashing down. After a minute he sighed, shaking his head way to fast to be healthy. "That was close; I would never have been able to forgive myself if I had gone through and said it... surely I would have died from guilt." He said, nodding in satisfaction.

"You are getting off topic, Harry." Was the chilly answer.

"What?! No! I'm not getting off the topic. Why would I get off topic? Did I get off topic?" Harry rambled. "Oh, well - the topic if not interesting, now let go of that book; I don't like to look at the huge family tree." It was the only warning Voldemort received before Harry ripped the book from his hands, throwing it behind him into the chimney. Voldemort stared at the burning book for a moment, before waving his hand over the fireplace, whisking the book out of it; surprisingly still intact.

Apparently choosing to ignore the violent action of his pet, he only asked superiorly. "Why?"

Harry furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "What 'why'?" He asked, before glancing over the man sitting in front of him. "Oh, you do look lovely tonight, Voldie. Wanna play? I really wanna play with you - yeah, that would be so nice." The random words made their way to his mouth, forgetting the previous question from his so-called master.

Voldemort leaned forward in his chair, bringing his face closer to Harry's. "I do want to do something painful to you; however, you are intoxicated and have no control of your actions so I will let it be." Red eyes staring into green ones, the threat was clear when he spoke again. "Do not call me 'Voldie', it is degrading."

Harry was far too drunk to mind the threat, babbling away. "It's not degrading; it's cute!"

"I am a dark lord, I do not appreciate being called cute."

Harry quieted down, scanning Voldemort before exclaiming. "But you're beautiful!" Licking his lips, he moaned. "Oh yeah, you're gorgeous, absolutely mouth-watering."

"I am honoured." Voldemort replied dryly, if a bit amused at his pet's antics.

"Hmmm, yeah. Never throw away your pet, all right?" Harry asked as he stood up, leaning closer to the man in the chair; arms at both sides of the armrests.

Voldemort stared into Harry's eyes, not reacting to the smaller man's movements. "It is not your choice, but for the time being I believe I will keep you."

"Great! Now kiss me, as a way to seal the deal." Harry said and leaned closer to Voldemort. Their faces were close now, Harry could feel Voldemort's warm breath and he desperately wished to lean closer. To get one more taste, to remember the taste of his blood - it would be incredible.

"You cannot order me around." Voldemort ordered, placing his hand around Harry's neck, a silent threat.

Harry was far too aroused to care about anything else than getting what he wanted and whispered. "Of course, how silly of me." He slid up in Voldemort's lap, ignoring the man's lack of movement. "Voldemort, please, let me kiss you?" He asked breathlessly, bringing his hands up to the man's shoulders.

Voldemort leaned closer to Harry, their lips almost touching. Crimson eyes stared into blurred green ones, though just as Harry thought the man would lean forward to crush their lips together Voldemort smirked.

"No." He answered, and Harry blinked in surprise. He had been refused.   
Red, tight anger bubbled uncontrollably up in his chest, and Harry bit his lip in surprise. He did not wish to react to the way he was a treated if he did then it only proved that he had lost. What, what had he lost?

A stupid smile spread across his face as he desperately tried to suppress his feelings. He had promised himself not to care about anything when he lost his mortality. It made no sense that after such a long time, his deeply controlled behaviour would begin to crack - maybe it was because he was drunk?

Harry slid slowly off Voldemort's lap, trying to keep in touch with his childish and stupid behaviour. "Where's Baldwin...?" He asked quietly. Yes, Baldwin could fix the cracks; if only he could talk to the snake, then he would be able to regress back to his real personality.

Voldemort stared questionably at Harry, who was staring emotionless back. His childish smile was long gone. "Baldwin?"

"My snake..." He was about to slip from the edge and if he did not get the snake soon, he would without a doubt fall into the abyss of his suppressed personality.

"Still alive, if that is what you are asking." Voldemort answered, studying Harry's change in behaviour.

Harry exhaled. "I need him." It had not been a question, but a demand.

"No." Voldemort replied.

Harry closed his eyes as he leaned his head backwards.  _"It's shattering."_

* * *

 

As Harold Maeve Potter had become an eternal man, he had acknowledged his own faults to the extreme.

Trying the hardest to rediscover his arrogant youth, he had slowly attained small, but self-destructive tendencies.

He tried to become unbeatable, unbreakable and, above all, eternal to the best of his ability.

To be unbeatable, by killing other people on request.

To be unbreakable, by never complaining about any kind of treatment.

To be enteral by never having the mortal dust, dirt and old touch him.

He was never to be lost again. He had no mask. He had no fears. He was untouched by his surroundings, never to lie in the dirty cell of mud and dust expecting to become a part of it.

This was his mantra; he refused to let go of the Harold that had died in the cell.

By keeping the dead skin bound to his face; he rejected the moving, be it vampire or man.

Harold Maeve Potter refused to let go of the past that haunted him more than anything.

The moment he met The Dark Lord he did not sense his mask gradually sliding from his face. Sooner or later he would have to accept that he no longer could play the character of a dead man.

He was not Harold Maeve Potter, the young man who had thought he could do anything, but in reality was powerless.

He was Harry Potter, the old man who desperately tried to keep a false mask to his face because he thought he was powerless, while in reality he was invincible.

**To be continued**


	7. Don't Worry About Cleanliness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I am not J. K. Rowling, neither do I won Harry Potter. No money is earned from writing this fanfiction.
> 
> A/N: I know that this chapter can be a bit confusing, but I think Harry's problem can be understood - or at least I hope so.:P Once again - if you see any grammar mistake, please tell me so I can correct it.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> Warning: Blood and gore, nothing too graphic.

**  
The Cleaner**

**Don't Worry About Cleanliness**

Voldemort stared critically at Harry's unmoving form, scrutinising him for any movement that would signify an attack. He did not deny that he was an arrogant man, but he never let it go to his head. Especially not when someone like Harry acted out off character so suddenly.

Harry was standing eerily silent; his head still thrown back as if he was staring at the roof. Though it was unclear if he actually was doing such a thing because pitch-black locks of hair were obscuring Harry's eyes. Sighing, Voldemort leaned back in his chair, though he was careful to keep his wand firmly gripped between slender fingers.

After another minute in complete silence, Harry inhaled forcibly; it sounded as though he had held his breath.

Lifting his head, sharp green eyes clashed with red ones. Harry grimaced in disgust and ruffled his already messy hair. "Fuck." He murmured irritatingly.

Glancing annoyingly at Harry, he drawled disapprovingly. "Language, pet."

Harry, who had been staring interestingly around the room, looked angrily at Voldemort. "What did you call me?" He snapped, his voice rougher and sharper than normal.

Voldemort leaned forward in interest over the sudden mood change Harry had gone through. "You are a pet, an animal." He murmured, studying the anger rising in green eyes. "Who do you think you are?" Harry replied coldly, tilting his head to the side as he studied Voldemort through emotionless eyes.

"Your owner." Voldemort answered.

Harry smirked as he shook his head in humour. "No, you are not." He murmured calmly. Strolling disturbingly silent up to Voldemort, he leaned forward as he whispered. "You're just a bloodbank."

Voldemort glared annoyingly at Harry. "Excuse me?" He was a dark lord; no one had the right to call him a bloodbank. Not even his own pet.

"Oh, did the truth hurt?" Harry replied, grinning widely. He glanced away from Voldemort and without further notice thrust his foot into the small table beside the dark lord's chair, sending it and the two glasses flying before it smashed against the floor. The glass shattered and the wooden table splintered. "I bet it did; you humans have such problems accepting that you're nothing more than our food. Only meant to be sliced open and splattered across walls!" As he talked his controlled voice disappeared, and a more wild, untamed one appeared. Like a wild animal loosing control. He was standing above the splintered table, smashing it into bits with his bare foot. The splints were pushed into his foot, and blood flowed through grotesque wounds.

Voldemort stared at the commotion with emotionless eyes, only sighing over the state of his expensive tea table.

When the glass and wood had been crushed into small fragments, Harry ceased his movements. Glancing down at his mutilated but healing foot, he inhaled in pleasure. "Imagine it, blood dirtying clothes, coloring walls; it's best when there's not a clean spot left." He sighed, rolling his shoulders in relaxation. "Everything covered in red." The last part came out as a whisper, but it had been enough for Voldemort to understand the situation.

"Clearly you too need disciplining." Voldemort murmured.

He seemed to have calmed down as cold eyes shifted his stare towards Voldemort. "Disciplining..." He said before an understanding light entered his eyes. "Oh, I see; he became your pet. Poor Harold. Poor, poor Harold." Harry said piteously.

Voldemort massaged his temples tiredly. "Sit." He commanded.

The other man crouched down to pull a splint out off his foot, and murmured quietly. "Forget it. I'm not going to sit anywhere on your command, baldy."

"Sit, and I will get you some dinner." He said not desiring to argue with the stubborn vampire.

Glancing up, Harry licked the splint free from crimson liquid before muttering. "Bribery..." Nodding he stood up. "All right." Harry strolled up to the empty chair, where he cautiously leaned his body against the armrest. He was much more paranoid than 'Harry' too, it would seem.

"Tittup." At once, the restless houseelf popped into the room. "Yes, master?" It muttered, jumping back and forth on the floor.

Voldemort glanced away from the irritating creature. "A-" He began, but the houseelf broke him off. "Master wants tea? Coffee? No...? Water?"

Sighing he shook his head. "A Muggle from the dungeon." Voldemort ordered, and Tittup nodded somewhat disappointingly back.

Just as Tittup was about to pop away, Harry took a strong grip around its thin arms."Creature." He whispered threateningly. "Get a young man, in his 20s would be preferable." Green eyes stared down at the little creature in disgust and Tittup squeaked fearfully.

Glancing over at Voldemort with blank eyes, it whispered. "Master?"

Voldemort nodded. "A young man." Harry smirked in satisfaction and let Tittup go so it could pop away.

"Your name, vampire." Voldemort ordered, hoping the other would answer without further discussion.

Harry shook his head before asking. "What makes you think I'm not Harold?"

Green and crimson eyes classed, both cutting into the other. "He does not call himself 'Harold'." Voldemort replied.

"He doesn't? Oh - that's right, he doesn't." Harry whispered quietly to himself. "Why should I give you my name? And have some more respect young man, I'm years older than you." He finished, glancing down at Voldemort as tough he was a pile of dirt.

Eyes narrowing in anger, he twirled his wand threateningly. "'Harold' did not mind."

"I'm not him." Harry said.

"Clearly." He murmured. "You are the one who have given him a reputation as an assassin." Voldemort remarked.

"You're not invalid, it seems." Harry said pleasantly. "Very well, you may talk to me as though we're equals, but don't you dare call me 'pet' again. I'll slit your pretty throat." He grinned broadly, showing off pearly white canines. "And to answer your question; yes, I'm the assassin. Harold is not capable of handling such dirty situations, just as I'm not able to handle meetings with clients." Shuddering in disgust, he furrowed his eyebrows. "The human race is... disgraceful."

Voldemort leaned forward in his chair, studying the other man. "Does he know that you exist?"

"Harold?" He asked nonchalantly. "Yes, he does..." Harry pursed his lips, green eyes chilly. "Though I don't think he wants to acknowledge my existence."

"Intriguing." Voldemort muttered. "Though if you are in charge of the assassination, why did 'Harold' come after me and not you?"

"When he gets worried he refuses to let me out... when I think about it, it's all your fault that I've been locked up the last weeks." Harry said calmly; it did not sound as though he cared.

Voldemort knew that Harry was blaming him since he had kidnapped 'Harold's' beloved snake, Baldwin. "Really?" Was his only reply.

"Shut up, your arrogance is irritating." Harry murmured.

"Are you sure you are the one to talk, vampire?" He replied, resulting in a cold glare from Harry. "You are not any less arrogant than me."

Harry shook his head. "At least I have a reason." Brushing his hand through his messy hair, he tugged painfully at it. "I'm immortal, why should I not be arrogant?"

"Indeed, then we agree."

Shaking his head in denial, Harry looked into the flames flickering in the chimney. "Agree? I never agree with anyone."

Following the other man's stare, Voldemort smirked. "Obviously."

After a moment of silence, Tittup popped up together with a young man. Harry glanced down at his food, studying the man's face before nodding in delight.

Voldemort excused the small houseelf. "Now eat and be silent; you talk as much as Harold." He ordered.

"Don't order me around." Harry whispered, but listened nonetheless as he reached toward the man's chin. Tilting the Muggle's head back, he ran his hand down the man's neck. Harry leaned down to his ear, whispering. "Hello, you're a handsome young man, aren't you?." The mentioned man shuddered in fear.

"...Let me go." He coughed.

Harry's face was emotionless, cold green eyes already in the process of consuming the Muggle's life. "Shut up, I don't want to listen to your complaining when I'm eating." He murmured, casting a wandless silencing spell and a binding spell. He walked up to the annihilated glasses and tea table to pick up the biggest fragments before he returned to the bound Muggle.

"Don't be scared." He murmured as he stabbed a wooden piece into the man's left eye. Smiling widely, he did the same thing to the other eye.

Voldemort sighed in irritation. "Refrain from staining the carpet too much."

"No way! This carpet will be crimson red when I'm finished." He heard Harry answer followed by a cracking sound. The sound of bones breaking.

After half an hour, Harry glanced down at his masterpiece. It was beautiful when the human body were shattered beyond repair, so wonderful he could do nothing else but lay down in it.

Voldemort studied the boy in front of him. "Why can you not share Harold's obsession with cleaning?" It was a mess; the crimson liquid was splattered across the entire carpet and Harry himself was laying in the middle of it all.

The white shirt was completely red; even his hair had attained a crimson shine. Harry glanced towards Voldemort. "It would be a nightmare. I don't care if I get dirty; I just want to have fun." He massaged blood into his already bloody face, eyes closing in enjoyment. "And I cannot have fun without splattering crimson liquid across walls and floors."

**To be continued!**


	8. Don't Worry About Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and I am not J. K. Rowling.
> 
> A/N: I know it's been a while since I last updated - but here it is! It has not been beta read, so if you see any mistakes it would be wonderful if you could tell me.:D

**  
The Cleaner**

**Don't Worry About Me**

He glanced at the glorious mess of blood at the floor. It was such a wonderful and, in a way, beautiful sight; crimson all over every surface. It was enough to make him smile in delight, but he would not. No, not as long as he was in the same room as the creature that had disrespected him _and_  Harold.

Brushing a crimson hand through his hair, he sighed in frustration and irritation. What a pity. Usually, he would feel relaxed and satisfied after dissecting someone, but somehow the other bald man hindered such relaxation.

Glaring into disturbingly beautiful crimson eyes, he snapped. "Harold is  _much_  more than you. You should not speak off him as a pet." How dare he say such things about Harold. It angered him more than anything that the main personality, the weakest and the one that needed the most protection was disrespected. He was even called a 'pet'. Outrageous.

Voldemort leaned back in his chair. "He did not mind." He drawled.

"I do. He just can't stand up for himself; I refuse to let you use him as a pet." He returned, but Voldemort did not seem to care.

Voldemort stared critically at him for a moment before smirking. "Why do you care? After our earlier conversation, I would have thought that you believe you are above Harry."

Gritting his teeth, he snarled angrily. "Why do  _you_  care?"

"Harry belongs to me... and I always care about my possessions." Voldemort drawled arrogantly.

"You've let your arrogance go to your head." He answered poisonously, hoping he could anger the dark lord. "Harold does not belong to anyone, and if he does belong to someone then it's me!" Harold was above everyone; he was an unexplained existence; therefore, he should be respected, even feared.

Voldemort leaned interestingly up in his chair, eyes gleaming in curiosity. "Oh - really? Have you forgotten that you and Harry a body? And since you do both of you belong to me."

His green eyes widened at the other man's words, before he began to laugh wildly in humour. "No way in hell. I will never belong to anyone."

"That much I have understood." Voldemort agreed.

"Good." He murmured, grinning broadly. He brushed a hand over his red shirt. "Well then, I'll be going." He said, ignoring Voldemort completely. "It doesn't look as though I'll be able to kill you today." He concluded and it was the truth. It would be impossible to kill Voldemort today; he would have to wait. He was an assassin and had certain ways of doing his job. If he tried then maybe he could kill the dark lord, but he did not have enough information on the snake man and was too tired to try anything for the time being.

"Will you try to kill me again, even though you failed the first time?" Was the only snide remark he received.

"Have you forgotten that it was Harold who failed? When I come after you, it will be a totally different experience." He drawled, glaring at Voldemort who only lifted his chin in reply."I will kick your ass." The arrogant bastard would never know what hit him.

"It seems as though you are underestimating me, but I will let it go." Voldemort replied. "I am looking forward to getting my 'ass kicked'."

"You should!" The green-eyed boy answered. "I will beat you into the floor and drain you for blood... It doesn't matter what Harold wants."

"Are you feeling conflicted?"

"No, why should I?" He replied as he began to walk towards the door. They were not getting anywhere by arguing, and Voldemort was pissing him off.

"You care for Harry, so you feel guilty because you have to kill someone he likes." Voldemort explained, enjoying the situation way too much. Asshole.

"Harold doesn't like you at all. What makes you think that...?" He snarled, refusing to think that Harold could ever like such an arrogant man.

"He loves snakes, so he may not like my personality but we both know he has wet dreams about my appearance." Was Voldemort's horrible reply. How could anyone be so irritating?

"Shit - why can't he like normal people." He whispered bitterly.

Voldemort stood up from his chair as he murmured. "It pains me to hear that you do not think I am normal."

"Oh shut up, we both know you are not normal and you relish in it." It had been clear from the moment he had opened his eyes about an hour earlier.

Voldemort nodded. "I will not deny the truth." He strolled towards the black-haired man, eyes possessively brushing over the green-eyed man's body.

"Whatever." He murmured, glancing away from Voldemort.

Voldemort was now standing few meters away from the other man. "It would be excellent if you can give me your name before you leave, if not I will have to call you 'pet'."

Glaring hotly at Voldemort he snapped. "No."

Nodding, Voldemort smiled fearfully. "'Pet' it is."

"You're a real pain in the ass." He gritted out. It would be horrible to share his name with someone like Voldemort, but when he thought about it, anything was better than being called 'pet'. Glaring into crimson eyes, he tilted his chin up in an arrogant manner. "Ares... just call me Ares."

Ares saw as a satisfied look spread across Voldemort's face, and exhaled as he tried to keep his promise not to kill the man at the moment. "Ares - from the god of war in Greek mythology?" Voldemort snorted.

Ares smirked. "Yeah, what about it? I had to pick a name and somehow 'Ares' felt right."

"I am sure it did." Voldemort murmured after a moment.

Ares's smirk fell from his face and he glanced uninterestedly away from Voldemort. "It did, so shut up."

"Very Well."

"Wonderful..." Ares turned around to the locked door. After a quietly whispered incarnation, it bursted open in an explosion. Violence was such a lovely thing.

He was about to step out off the room, when Voldemort had to say something. Apparently the man could never shut up. "Maybe I should bribe you out of your deal with Fudge."

Ares glanced back at Voldemort. "How do you know you can buy me out of it?" Harold only told their clients about how they operated.  _Money decided everything._

"I have my sources." Yeah, Ares was sure he did. After all, Voldemort was a dark lord.

"Fudge gave me a huge sum for your assassination, are you sure you have the money to buy me out of it?" Ares smirked. He hoped Voldemort did not have enough money because Ares actually wanted to kill the man.

Voldemort stared coldly down at Ares. "I do, thought the question is - should I?" He whispered and Ares furrowed his eyebrows at the answer. "Why shouldn't you? Don't you want to live?" He murmured to Voldemort.

Smirking, Voldemort walked up to Ares. Eyes shining, he whispered. "If I do then you will not return to me."

"Return... to you?" Ares asked hesitantly.

Voldemort smirked in enjoyment. "Yes, to kill me. If I pay you, then you can run away, but if I do not then you have no choice but to return to this building." He explained and Ares imagined himself draining the man for blood.

"You're-" Ares began but before he could finish his sentence, Voldemort cut him off. "Goodbye." And he apparated away, leaving an angry vampire behind.

Ares loathed the man.

* * *

 _"Baldwin..."_  He murmured disdainfully as he glanced down at the snake. It had been no challenge to find the snake, but now that he had he regretted it. Baldwin was beautifully trapped inside a dirty cage, and Ares knew that if he left there was no way Baldwin would be able to ever get out without help.

Baldwin stared hatefully up at Ares. Clearly he could see that it was not Harold that was in charge.  _"Ares..."_

 _"You're still alive, that's a pity."_  Ares sighed in disappointment.

Baldwin flicked his tongue.  _"Right back at you. Now, let Harold out."_

Snorting in disbelief, Ares shook his head.  _"No way. He's sleeping."_  Harold was tired, so Ares would take care of everything until the other was ready to come out.

 _"I do not want to talk to you."_  Baldwin replied cuttingly.

Ares glanced away from the snake.  _"Neither do I."_

 _"..."_  A silence spread across the room, or maybe he should call it a dungeon. It was situated underneath the mansion, and the walls were grey, moist and dirty. It was a good thing that Ares was in charge at the moment; Harold would without a doubt have gotten nightmares from the room.

Baldwin hissed in annoyance. _"Let us return to Harold's apartment. I have spent too much time in this horrible building."_  Both the snake and Harold had no appreciation for dust and dirt. How could they not see the beauty in it?

Sighing, he murmured. _"I'll open the cage, but you'll get home on your own."_

He waved his hand over the lock, and a moment later it popped open. Opening the cage door, he let Baldwin slither out. As soon as Baldwin was out he hissed.  _"I'll tell Harold."_

Shit. Ares already regretted letting the snake out. _"No, you will not."_  He snapped.

 _"I will."_  The snake promised, and Ares knew he would. Grimacing, he whispered.  _"...Shit,"_

 _"Now give me your hand so I can get up on your shoulders."_  Baldwin ordered.

Ares stared stupidly down at the snake. _"I have no intention of letting you lay around my shoulders - you'll probably try to choke me."_

 _"Unfortunately, you share that body with Harold, so I have no choice but to treat it gently."_  The snake replied, but Ares did not look convinced.

 _"Nah - I'll explain where we are and then you can find your way home by yourself."_  He murmured. Baldwin shook his head in a disturbingly human-like manner.  _"No."_

 _"Why did Harold have to find a pest like you?"_  Ares whined.

 _"Why did Harold have to share his body with someone like you?"_  Baldwin replied.

 _"Touché."_  Ares murmured.

 _"Let me up, now."_  Baldwin ordered. The green-eyed man stared down at the snake with a conflicted look. After a moment, he swallowed harshly.

 _"No, I really can't... you're disgusting."_  He exclaimed stepping further away from Baldwin.

 _"Shame on you, Ares. What would Harold say if he heard you say such despicable words?"_  Baldwin chastised. Why did the snake have to bring Harold up in their conversation? That was unfair.

Dropping his head in defeat, Ares murmured.  _"Fuck... fine, but only until I've teleported away from this place."_  He sat down on his knees so he could help Baldwin up on his shoulders. The snake had an irritatingly pleased look in its eyes.

Ares had never understood what Harold could see in the disturbing creature. So what if it was immortal like them? Ares had no desire to share his life with the snake, but it did not seems as though Harold would let it go anytime soon so he had to live with it.

As long as Baldwin pleased Harold nothing had to be done to the snake. Though if it ever hurt or damaged Ares's beloved Harold it would understand that death was not the worst thing that could happen.

Ares would never admit it out loud, but Harold was his everything. He was willing to do anything to keep Harold safe; even if he had to keep living without being accepted by Harold.

Nevertheless it tortured Ares to be rejected by an existence he loved more than anything. It was painful, even agonising, but there was nothing he could do about it. After all, he had understood that the world was unfair a long time ago.

**To be continued!**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So what do you think about Ares?


	9. Don't Worry About Morals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I am not J. K. Rowling and do not own Harry Potter.
> 
> A/N: Alright, another chapter! In this chapter you'll see how.. *cough* crazy and plain disturbing Ares is - or at least I find him quite disturbing. Not beta read - I apologise for any grammar mistake.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> Warning: Sexual content - self-pleasuring.

**  
The Change**

**Don't Worry About Morals**

Ares apparated directly into the kitchen in Harold's apartment. As soon as he saw where he had landed a twisted smile spread across his previously expressionless face. He took a strong grip around Baldwin's head and spun around towards the counter, where he smashed the snake forcefully into the wooden counter. Baldwin attacked, but before he could drive his fangs into Ares's arm, the green-eyed boy reached out to the knife-holder at his side, gripped a knife and drove it through Baldwin's neck into the counter.

He glanced satisfied down at Baldwin, who was hissing wildly. _"Well... that went well, don't you think?"_ He grinned.

Baldwin's tail slashed into his left arm, and Ares glanced unimpressively down at the snake. _"You played your part surprisingly good."_ He murmured as he picked up another knife at his side, and drove it into Baldwin's tail, sealing the snake completely into the kitchen counter.

Nodding in satisfaction, Ares leaned against the counter. _"Voldemort will now think of me as someone weak - just like Harold."_ He drawled as he glanced down at his bloody nails.

_"...despicable... someone... like you."_ Baldwin hissed with difficulty.

Ares grinned wider. _"What did you expect? I am an assassin. I can't do my job if my target knows how strong I am, can I?"_

He studied Baldwin for a moment, as if he expected an answer. Ares was not an airhead like Harold; he knew that Voldemort thought himself better than anyone else and if he wanted to succeed in assassinating the man then he had to hide his own power. If the other man underestimated him, then it would be much easier to kill him. Ares closed his eyes in pleasure; just the knowledge that he had manipulated the _incredible_ dark lord made him euphoric.

Ares had no difficulty in sensing magical signatures. He had known that the man's disgusting snake had followed him through the entire manor before he found Harold's pet. It had even witnessed his conversation with Baldwin, so Ares had done what was necessary and acted. The best part was that Baldwin had played along - something Ares had not expected. Maybe he had to give the snake a bit more respect. Glancing down at the snake, Ares scrunched his nose in disgust. _No, disgusting creatures like snakes doesn't deserve shit._ Ares thought as he considered driving another knife through Baldwin.

Voldemort probably thought he was a weak and submissive being after their conversation, which was absolutely wonderful! Now, Ares could do his thing in silence.

Sometimes Ares believed he would have done a better job as an actor. Harold did have the most gorgeous body, so his appearance was not a problem. Thought Ares could not survive without blood and gore, so assassin it was.

Rolling his shoulders, Ares strolled into Harold's bedchamber, ignoring Baldwin's hisses and curses. It was wonderful to know he could torture the snake again and again without worrying about killing the ugly creature. It was actually all thanks to Baldwin that Ares had perfected his skinning technique. Good pet.

Flopping down into the smooth bed, Ares pursed his lips in thought. He was in control for the fist time in months; he had to take the opportunity he was given.

Ares waved his hands and a large mirror was conjured at the end of the bed, giving him view of his entire body, or Harold's body. He licked his lips, smirking to himself as he let his hand slide over Harold's firm stomach. They may share one body, but Ares had never considered it his own. It belonged fully to Harold, which made his own dirty fantasies possible.

Pulling the shirt off, Ares studied his torso, Harold's torso. Pale skin, strong muscles clear under a thin layer of skin; Ares moaned quietly as he imagined the blood underneath it. _Oh uh - I shouldn't think about that…_ Ares thought, but dragged his sharp nails harshly over his ribcage anyway, drawing blood.

He slipped his jeans off and sat up on his knees so he could study his body. Delicious. Ares let his eyes roam, and slowly slid his pants off. Ares ran his hands over his cool body, the blood from his earlier escapade in the dark lord's manor dry on his skin. He had yet to touch his lacking member, loving the feel of his, _Harold's_ , hands sliding close but not quite touching it.

Exhaling - a habit he knew was unnecessary - Ares bit sharply into his own lips, fangs digging into the tender flesh. Moaning, he ghosted his hands over his sensitive member. Oh - how he wanted to grasp it; to harshly slide Harold's hand up and down the shaft. Ares needed it, but he refrained. He imagined himself, in another body, leaning over Harold, who moaned and panted his name. Ares would tease him, bite him and love him.

Ares's hands halted and he tightened his jaw, all lust lost in a flash. «Fuck.» He murmured, waving his hand so the mirror disappeared. Laying completely still, he stared unseeingly into the room. Such a mood killer he was. Yes, Ares knew better than to imagine him and Harold in two different bodies.

It was an impossibility. No matter how much Ares wished he could fuck Harold _hard_ into the madras, it would never happen. While there had to exist rituals that could enable them to separate into two bodies, Ares would not leave his post as Harold's guarding dog.

Ares was the knight, the protector, the foundation, and he refused to gamble with Harold sanity just to stratify his own desires.

_But - oh fuck - I need to kiss him._

**To be continued!**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Ares should get a therapist, that's for sure. Anyway, please leave a review on your way out - if you feel like commenting, that is.


	10. Worry About The Other One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and I'm not J. K. Rowling.
> 
> A/N: So I've used a lot of time to update, but here it is! Hope you enjoy!
> 
> It hasn't been betaed, so if you see any mistakes please let me know.;)

 

**The Cleaner**

**Worry About The Other One**

While Harry knew he shared his body with another personality, he refused to acknowledge it, to really accept it. As a result of this rejection of the truth he never said, or thought for that matter, the name of the personality in question.

If he did not think or talk about it, then maybe he could trick himself into believing that the other personality did not exist. It was a childish belief, he knew that, and while he had yet to succeed in erasing the other from his mind, he kept on with his delusional ideas.

These thoughts swept through his head as he stared down at Baldwin, who was grotesquely nailed to the kitchen counter. When proof such as this stared him into the eyes, he remembered that there was no way he would ever be able to forget about 'him'.

 _"Baldwin… Why the fuck did you not kill the guy?"_ He murmured as he tugged the knives carefully out of the snake's body.

 _"You and Ares share one body and, as a result, killing him means that I have to kill you…"_ The wounds healed slowly as Harry lifted Baldwin up in his arms, pursing his lips in annoyance at the snake's words. _"And let us not forget that you cannot die."_

 _"So I'm stuck with the devil?"_ Harry murmured.

Baldwin flicked his tongue in irritation. _"While I do despise the man, I will remind you that he does all the dirty jobs for you."_ They stared into each other's eyes neither backing down from their own opinion about the so-called devil inside Harry.

It angered Harry that Baldwin would support the other personality, when they both hated him just as much. Could the snake not support his childish opinions just for a moment? Grimacing, Harry looked away. _"I don't want to talk about it."_

Baldwin stared intensely at him for a moment, clearly unimpressed. Then he hissed. _"You have to invite him inside eventually, Harold. No matter how much he seems like another person, he is a part of you and nothing good ever comes out from rejecting yourself, even if it is only a small essence of your being."_

Harry refused to think about it, even if the snake had said something sensible.

* * *

 

Loud knocks brought Harry out from a deep sleep he would rather have stayed in. He grimaced in annoyance as he pulled his pillow over his head, pressing it against his air in a futile attempt to muffle the continuing knocks.

He closed his eyes, hoping that the knocks would disappear if he ignored them. Just like the other person; if he thought it did not exist then it did not. It was a simple concept, one Harry knew never would work. Shit, he had not just thought that.

As the minutes went by and the knocks continued to bother him, Harry finally gave himself over to the fact that he had to answer. He had to push his blanket and Baldwin's heavy body off, and then he had to stand up from the bed and walk all the way to the front door. Why him? Sighing, he stood up from the bed, making his way to the front door.

When Harry opened it, he was fully prepared to yell at whoever had dared to wake him up in the middle of the night. Thought before a word managed to fall out off his mouth, they got stuck in his throat.

The familiar person at his doorstep shocked him, and for a moment he considered closing the door before the other man could say anything. He was a tall man, with lean muscles hiding an abnormal strength Harry had experienced several times. Black, long hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail, framing the man's tanned face. If Harry had not known him, then he would have called him handsome. But unfortunately he knew him and, not for the first time, Harry deeply wished he did not.

"Young master." The man said as he bowed politely. Harry grimaced at the title. He despised it and everything it meant.

"Chocolate…" Harry returned, once again remembering how much the man's name humoured him.

Chocolate nodded in reply, thought his face was kept eerily emotionless. "May I come inside?" He glanced past Harry, as though he expected Harry to let him inside at once.

"No," Harry answered, and grasped the doorknob to close the door. Chocolate sighed disappointedly as he stepped closer, grasping the door as it was about to close. "Young master, he will not be pleased." He murmured.

Harry furrowed his eyebrows in anger, "Get the fuck away from my house!" He yelled, trying to push Chocolate away from the door.

"I apologise; Master's orders are above yours." The other replied, not moving a millimetre.

"Fuck, I've had nothing to do with him for 23 years, and now you appear at my doorstep expecting me to invite you inside." Harry managed to bite out. "I've had it fucking wonderful without a word from him, or you for that sake, please let me continue to live alone…" He wanted nothing to do with Chocolate, and especially not his so-called master. "Now get the hell away from my house!"

Chocolate glanced over Harry, who was half naked with only loose pants hanging from his hips. "I apologise, but this is not up for discussion, young master."

"And don't call me that." Harry added as an afterthought.

"I apologise, young master," Chocolate began. Apologising once again. "But if you will not let me inside, I will, unfortunately, have to use force." He finished, walking past a struggling Harry. "Wha - no!" He yelled after the man that easily slid past him. He did not want that man inside his house! "Get out, you big machine!" Harry yelled after him.

Chocolate did not look back as he moved deeper inside Harry's apartment. Sighing, Harry banged his head against the wall as he muttered. "I hate my life…"

He considered walking out the door and find a hotel to sleep in for the night, but he knew that Chocolate would find him if he did. The man always found him. Harry bit his lip in frustration, turning around as he made his way into the living room. Chocolate was maybe a jerk that forced himself inside another person's house, but he was polite enough only to walk into the living room. Harry knew that.

Chocolate was standing in the middle of the room when Harry arrived. He stepped up to Harry, guiding him towards a chair. Fortunately, the man was clever enough to keep his hands away from Harry, knowing the smaller man's hatred for coming in contact with other people. "Please sit, young master, I will make you a cup of tea." He murmured politely as soon as Harry was seated in the chair.

"I didn't ask for it." Harry snapped, irritated that the man was acting as thought he was welcome in his house.

"You never do." Chocolate added as he walked towards the kitchen. How did the man know where the kitchen was? He had never been in Harry's house before.

Once he was sure Chocolate was in the kitchen, Harry glanced around in search of his friend. _"Baldwin?"_ He whispered. _"Baldwin, get out here."_ He said a bit louder.

After a second or two, the snake came slithering inside the living room. _"What is it?"_ Baldwin asked irritatingly. Harry was not the only one who was tired and annoyed.

Harry glanced towards the kitchen before he looked back at Baldwin. _"I can't say for sure, but whatever it is, he is back."_ The snake would know the meaning behind Harry's words.

 _"It was to be expected."_ Baldwin replied after a moment. Yes, it was expected. _That_ man would never leave Harry alone as long as he lived. _"Who's here?"_ Baldwin asked.

 _"Chocolate the machine."_ Harry answered.

_"Ah - the dog."_

Harry snorted at the snake's answer, shaking his head in humour. _"Yes, the dog."_

 _"I dislike dogs."_ Baldwin stated once they saw Chocolate walk into the room with the tea. Baldwin slithered up to Harry's chair, where Harry bowed down to help the snake up on the armrests.

"Young master, your tea." Chocolate murmured, giving a cup of tea to Harry, who shook his head. He did not want to drink the man's tea, and there was no way he was touching anything that he had touched. Chocolate glanced down at Baldwin, face twitching slightly in what Harry knew was disgust. "I see that you still have that horrendous pet."

Harry ignored the man's comment, only desiring to finish the conversation. "What do you want?"

"Never the one for small talk." Chocolate replied.

"What. Do. You. Want?"

Chocolate sighed. "He desires your attendance for the annual meeting tomorrow night." They both knew what he was talking about, so no explanation was needed or expected.

Harry's face hardened as he stared at the man. "No." He replied.

"You do not have a choice in the matter, young master." Chocolate answered strictly.

"No, no, no." Harry chanted, shaking his head. "I will not go back there again!"

"It pains me to hear that you dislike your only home to such an extent." He said, eyes falling upon Harry once again.

He laughed somewhat hysterically at the mention of that place. "It's not my home… it'll never be anything more than a prison." It had been nothing more than a dirty cell for quite some years.

"Whatever you say or feel will not do anything to change Master's mind." Chocolate murmured before he added. "He misses you, young master." He probably said the last part only because he knew how much Harry despised being reminded of _that_ man.

"No." Harry replied.

"You are his only son, his family," He whispered quietly as he turned around towards the front door. "And you will do as he says." Chocolate walked out of the room, and Harry rose from his chair, yelling angrily. "Are you deaf? I'm not going anywhere."

"I will pick you up at 23.30." He heard Chocolate call from the door before it slammed close, leaving Harry alone and angry. "No! Get back here! Listen to what I am saying!"

* * *

 

Harry was staring angrily at the wall, ignoring the other man completely. Somehow Chocolate had managed to get him out of his apartment and into the horrible castle. Now he was back to his nightmares.

The couch he was sitting in was beyond comfortable and irritatingly beautifully decorated. Everything in the castle was too ancient and antique. While it was wonderful to be in a room he knew was clean, it was disgusting because he knew who walked through it every day. Fuck he wanted to get out.

Chocolate stepped up to him, placing a black suit beside him on the side of the couch. "Please wear this, young master."

Harry snorted. "Why? What I wear now is good enough."

"No, it is not." Chocolate returned.

"Yes, it is. Not everyone walks around in fancy suits." Harry smirked as he saw Chocolate glance down on his own suit.

"I will leave you alone while you change." Chocolate had murmured after a moment of silence before he strolled out, closing and probably locking the door behind him.

Harry leaned back in the couch, glancing down at the suit at his side. Grasping it, he threw it forcefully against the closest furniture. "I'm not wearing this!" He yelled, smirking as he saw it land in a heap at the floor. He knew he could try to leave, but that would without a doubt anger _that_ man. And while Harry was a grown up man now, the memories still haunted him - he was still scared.

"Fuck this." He murmured.

The door slid open, quietly, and Harry would not have noticed it if he had not been looking at it. Harry swallowed forcibly when he saw who it was.

"There you are, my beloved child." There is was, that sickly sweet voice that refused to leave him alone.

For the first time in many years, Harry wanted Ares to take control. He needed something to protect him from this monster.

Staring into the man's eyes, Harry whispered. "Noir."

* * *

 

**To be continued!**


	11. Remember to Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so I finally forced myself to write another chapter! *feeling proud* It's quite short, but at least I wrote something. ^^
> 
> Not proofread!

**Remember To Love**

Noir was a simple man. He had few desires and didn't particularly enjoy receiving extravagant gifts. There were few things he required, but a cup of black coffee every now and then was much appreciated. The fragrance of newly brewed coffee always soothed his nerves.

Noir was also careful not to burden his servants and gave long - continuous - holidays to servants if exhaustion became visible. Well-executed work was a result of content servants, that much Noir was aware of.

The duties following his lordship were overwhelming and much of his days was spent silently signing papers. When he wasn't occupied with work, he spent hours showering his loved ones with everything he had to provide. Kindness, love, lust, adoration, earthly possessions, name it: they would never hunger for anything.

It had been through love and affection that Noir had decided to give Harold the final kiss. A kiss of immortality and endless lust. It had been a moment of celebration. His firstborn son. Created from and through love. It would have been perfect, had Harold not locked himself inside his suite for months. Only reappearing when he was close to dying from malnutrition, confused and scared.

They had spent many nights together after that, Noir quietly nourishing his feeble son with much-needed fluids. The continuous streams of tears rolling down Harold´s checks had been a mark of understanding and progress.

Sharing gave him joy and contentment in life. It gave him purpose.

Harold, his beloved creation, had much to be thankful for.

* * *

Harold's eyes hardened as Noir stepped into the room. "Harold, my dear," He opened his arms as though inviting Harold into an embrace. "Welcome home!" No reply was heard, only his son's harsh inhale. So fragile and breakable, still unable to stand up when Noir was close. Stuck in a tragedy that happened decades ago.

Noir stepped closer and Harold shrank away. "Oh - no, no, no - look at yourself." Reaching up, Noir caressed his cheeks, ignoring Harold's grimace. Even after all those years, his creation had the smoothest skin, the clearest eyes and the most irresistible lips. Brushing his thumb over soft lips, Noir murmured. "Pale, cold, what have you been eating lately?"

Harold closed his eyes as he exhaled slowly. "I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself; you've taught me as much, Noir…"

Smiling, Noir took a crushing grip around Harold's throat. "Now, now, what have I told you about calling me 'Noir'?" Harold coughed harshly, eyes burning with unmentioned and suppressed rage as he pulled weakly at Noir's hand. Glee blossomed in his chest: his hold on Harold would never wither. Not as long as Harold never dared to physically oppose him. Words held no sway over Noir.

"Father…" hoarse, pained and humiliated. Noir adored his son.

Lessening his grip considerably, but not letting go, Noir leaned closer to Harold. "Good boy," a victorious whisper.

He could see Harold's resentment clouding his emerald green eyes.

Grinning, he gripped Harold's hips and hauled him against his chest. Noir leaned in and brushed his lips smoothly against Harold's, almost innocently.

"You still taste so sweet," he murmured before biting into Harold's lip, drawing blood. Ah, his blood was still like the finest wine. Even if it no longer held any nourishment for him. Through it all, Harold stood frozen in his embrace, only faint puffs of air showcasing his distress. With a final swipe over the bleeding lips, Noir brushed his hands through Harold's hair and stepped away.

"I'm so glad you choose to return," he murmured affectionately. "Pleasantly surprised, I must say."

"Noir…" Harold began, but halted when he saw Noir's jaw tightening in annoyance."Father," he corrected. "I have no intention of joining you for anything. No meeting, dinner or a 'joyous' time for that matter." Sharp words coated with anger. Harold turned around, gathered up his coat and pulled his scarf around his pale - delicious - throat.

"Oh?"

Nodding tensely, Harold gathered his resolve. "We'll be in touch again soon," he stepped up to Noir, close but not close enough to touch. "Next time however, send a letter. Chocolate is not welcome into my house." Harold's monotone voice gave away his worry. His son worried too much about the consequences of his words. "And neither are you, Father." The worst thing that could happen was Noir's rage. A few broken bones. A concussion. Death.

In another world, Noir would have exploded in fury. Gripped Harold's throat and tore into it, ripping skin and fibers apart. Blood would have gushed out and Noir would have tasted it for the last time.

However, in this world, Noir only nodded silently, eyes cold.

Harold exhaled slowly, nodded and rushed towards the door. He hauled it open and all but ran out of the room. Noir sighed at his son's actions, only feeling slightly disgruntled. He had not expected anything else from their meeting. It had been all too soon. At least he managed to steal a hasty kiss and a few drops of blood.

He still remembered Harold's escape all those years ago in clarity. It had devastated the household: they all loved for his wonderful creation. His absence had left an empty space. No more screams through the night, sharp glares or angry insults. Noir had hoped that some time outside would have calmed Harold's juvenile language, but apparently, it had only heated his son's anger and immaturity.

It would take time. Years, decades, maybe even centuries. However, Noir was sure that Harold would learn to appreciate everything he had given him.

It was only a matter of time.

**To be continued!**


End file.
